I will be your husband

if you’ll be my wife.

9.40pm is when the clock says
this is at last happening
but I am happenstance –

mascara streaming

a beatific woman who smells like
keen spirit
is nestled to my chest

your body is humming to

chain gang primordial
beat metal thumping
I want to lie lie lie here and

stare at the ceiling, saintly

Mary who holds all our sins
they tell me
when I am not asking

that you are a great man

a lovely man
a good man
but aren’t I the meanest

goddamn woman
you have ever seen?

Categorized as musing

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.


  1. Haha absolutely, Brisbane is smaller than it seems, hopefully I’ll bump into you sometime in the near future…and perhaps I’ll muster the courage to approach you.

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