My Husband's Upstairs

My husband is upstairs

And he wants to take a picture

Of me with the dog

He wants me to pick up a book

And look like I’m reading

And have the dog sleeping on my legs

And he wants the sunlight

To be coming in just right

And he wants to take a picture

And say how much he loves me

But only in the caption

Of the photo

That he’ll take

My husband is upstairs

Trying on bathing suits

For a trip we’re going to take

Where he’ll see guys look at me

And get angry

Because they’re not

Looking at him

He’ll dangle me out

Like a worm on a line

And no matter how I feel

He’ll remind me

That the house we’re staying in

And the pool we’re swimming in

And the trips we take

And the life we have

And the things I like

Are all

Because

Of him

My husband is upstairs

Trying to figure out

What we can do next month

Based on what

Everyone else

Is doing

Our friends

And the people we’d like

To be our friends

And the men we’d like to meet

And the concerts we’d like to see

Because the men we’d like to meet

Are seeing them too

He’s picking out something

For me to wear

That shows me off

But doesn’t give me away

He’s having a drink

His third of the night

And he’ll be asleep

By nine

And tomorrow

He’ll go to work

And I’ll sit here

And when he comes home

He’ll ask me

What I did all day

And I’ll have to say ‘Nothing’

Like it’s my choice

To do nothing

And not his request

He’s jealous on Friday’s

He’s kind on Monday’s

He wants to have sex on Saturday’s

But only if he’s drunk

And even then

Halfway through

It becomes about the other guys

The ones he can’t get

To take a look

Because they’re too busy

Looking at him

He asks me if I think about them

If I’d rather be with them

If I think they’d love me

More than him

My husband’s upstairs

And I’m down here

Watching my glass empty

Watching tv I don’t like

Watching the summer come by

One more time

So it means

Soon we’ll be

Outside

It means I’ll have to socialize

And find my place

And bite my lip

And find my words

And bite my tongue

And find my way home

When I want to leave a party

And he doesn’t

This time when he comes home

Looking to pick a fight

Maybe I’ll bite

Who knows?

I could always go upstairs

And start one now

But there are just so many

Stairs

My husband’s upstairs

Researching plastic surgery

And beach houses

And playing music

With a loud, pulsing

Drowning out

Whatever words

There are

But then again

Who needs to hear

The words?