Airing the Husband

Airing the Husband


My mother aired her laundry.

I air my husband.

He sits in the dark,

grumbles, gets

dank and musty.

Face transforms into

old bark and burls.

Lichen-covered, moss

begins to grow

on his north side.

He schleps up the stairs.

Watches the news,

yells at TV people.

At times, he and the lawn mower

disappear to make noise,

cut things down.

He comes home

tired and dusty.

I lead him out the door

into the light,

into the car.

Short trips to see

the sky, other distant people.

Warm breezes blow

through the mildewed mood.

The lines smooth,

crust slowly disappears,

voice mellows.

For a while,

he smells like sunshine.

3 thoughts on “Airing the Husband

  1. Wonderful poem!! There are so many great things to comment about. I love the subject matter and it is handled with a lot of humour and wit. I also like your use of some slang such as schlept…slang or onomatopeia? Beautifully done!

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