you have no say
when it comes down to it. 
you are no fat man with at least one heart attack
out for blood.

you care for the families of the people your husband has killed,
you do good things for a library in oklahoma
that frowns on books about the galapagos and buddhism
and representation for taxation.

i don’t believe it.  sooth me.
tell me that you are a woman.
your husband doesn’t believe in them.
tell us you weren’t a ditsy tramp
in your younger days and that he never
cheats on anything.

were you embarrassed when he called you a
lump in the bed?
are you ever saddened?
has the haze of being official made it all too easy

to brush things that don’t smile

away?