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?

Published
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.

4 comments

  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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