The moon was abundant shining silver. The light
emphasizing silhouettes observed by
young eyes watching from the windows.
Staggering across freshly plowed soil, stumbling,
he sliced a groove in the earth as he fell.
Close behind, she ran to his side.
Struggling with an awkward grace
balancing dead weight on to sturdy shoulders,
she pulled him to his feet.
“Come on Jess,” she said, her words flat,
void of emotion, as she spoke
“ let’s go in the house, now.”
slumping forward in a grotesque moan,
he leaned into her body , using it as a staff to
steady his gait. She was weary.
A fact recognized , but not voiced.
To question or complain,
wasn’t her nature. It was
a time period of expected pregnancies,
babies, and little formal education.
She accepted.
Just as she accepted the scarce rains, the sand storms,
the endless chores, his spendthrift ways, the abuse,
and the alcohol.
Once in the house, with cool callused hands
she undressed him and laid him gently upon the bed
they shared.