Wedlock

He does not complain

when she drinks too much at parties.

He is far too well mannered
to provoke a scene.

While other couples quarrel
over cocktail-party etiquette,
he maintains his restraint,
even as she betrays
their most intimate secrets.

He does not censor her language
with unfamiliar guests,
though she spooks the delicate among them 

with brash comedy and wild gesticulation.

She croons to receptive men
when she finds him inattentive
and suffers aloud when he scorns
her amorous gestures.

Long after others have bid goodnight,
he coaxes her to the car
and drives them home, 

stopping along the rain-soaked freeway
so she may vomit

her memory of the evening.

He watches her beneath the streetlight,

hunched over, hands braced on her knees,

motionless in the downpour.

In the bedroom, he rebuffs her advance,
insists she remove her soiled attire.

"OK, Boss," she mutters.

"You're the boss."

He draws a warm bath,
presents fresh underclothes,
and waits for her to change.


**First published in Duck Lake Journal