Marriage Talk 1
It took forty minutes
for the rectangle of light
from around the bathroom door to go off.
The door opening quietly
wearing what she usually wore to bed in winter
the young woman,
as quietly as possible,
tiptoed to bed.
The young man
watched the shadow of his wife
as she approached the bed,
turning onto his side,
propping his head within the palm of his hand,
Though said softly, the simple, one syllable word
seemed to resound throughout the room.
For the young man
the word transmitted hopeful expectancy.
For the young woman
the word was perceived as a demand for sex
that she was neither in a physical
nor mental mood to comply with.
Squirming beneath the blanket,
“if you really want to screw,”
“I’ll do it.
But I do want you to know,”
“I’ve such a headache!”
“You’ve a headache, huh?”
Turning onto his back,
“You really ought to talk to your doctor
‘bout all the headaches you’ve been getting.”
“You don’t believe me.”
Said without anger,
Onto his side again,
propping his head in his hand again ,
thinking before answering.
“I don’t want to argue.”
speaking without anger,
I don’t always believe you’re as sick
as you always say you are.”
“And I think you’re really looking
for an excuse not to have sex and…”
“I think you don’t love me anymore.
As a matter of fact,”
—truly believing this—
“I think you hate me.”
Turning onto her side also,
unable to see his features,
but feeling his closeness
feeling the touch of breath upon her face…
To be continued
©April 13, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman