husband father
January 12, 2012
If I didn’t have a pen
I’d write this in
lipstick because when I
remember the lines and valleys
of you, the ones
you gave to your daughter,
I learn that
a husband, in a way, would be
father to me — the air
between each piece of my
spine, body I lean against,
male oxygen that
reminds me what I am –
this little blown wind
of my voice to you,
my birthmarked arms,
my last splatters of devotion
I send to you, that you may
feel and absorb them,
and know to re
lease me, too
© 2012 Tahminah Zaman
