My Captive of nineteen years ago
stood bedraggled
in the night time doorway
of His dank examining room
with Arms of Dishonour
extended
Eye wear regal fakery
on My Left Ring Finger —
solid gold
on My Right.
The World will be told
why
some time soon
if the parties involved
feel like it
Eye have had My Fill
of wedding rings
& long black hairs
dislodged from corners,
bed & bath
The man is Mine —
if He is a Man —
and I cannot live
the single life
With This Ring
Eye Thee Wed
Upon My Brother’s Chain
Around My Neck
I Am Thy Slave
Women are at least
as territorial as men,
and Eye run
a tight ship.
Eye may not want to
clean & cook for My Husband:
Eye fuck legally
Eye hear the waves
from across The Guzzle
where rising
My Husband resides.
Eye will not be pushed around
by Him
or anyone else.
My presence
is
remarkable.
Eye have seen Him New
in the subtle light
of Directness
with My Confrontation dissolved
He can be Mine Now
with features softened
He is handsome always
in Blue
like those Eyes Eye Love
Is This The Oldest Line In The Book?
There is nothing romantic
about The Sexual Power Play.
I am under His Control
and Eye don’t like it.
Eye am an egg
sitting here
and He is the forceful sperm.
I have no choice but to wait
for Him
and Eye don’t like it.
Who has put Me
in this vulnerable position?
God?
Joanna Gilman Hyde 