Read on Macduff!
Old Ghosts
He Loves Me
But he loves me. My husband loves me.
He tells me every day, throughout the day, I lose track; the whispers, the greetings, the little notes on the mirror, in my files,
the phone calls, the sighs when we make love, the murmurs when we're half asleep…
Why am I saying it like this?
Listing, justifying.
I know he loves me, I feel it. It's in his eyes, his caress, his kisses, his gestures, the little things; when he plays with my hair,
when he reaches for me in his sleep, when he puts his hand in the small of my back, letting me know he's there.
He's always there.
(So where is he now?)
He always comes home, no matter how late it is, he always comes.
(So why is it morning?)
He loves me.
(So why am I worried?)
