Jonah's Wife Explains
Jonah's Wife Explains
The beached whale of him,
his rotten carcass,
ribs like the pillars of Hercules,
inside, a dark city, fetid, crawling
with sweaty maggots.
You were swallowed up,
vanished from my life,
I took another to my bed:
our children needed a father,
our table needed food,
no fish; grapes, olives, pomegranates;
we raised a family.
In the end it took a village
to bring you back,
you and all your new friends,
their blank reflective eyes,
scaling our fences,
frightening the livestock,
can you blame us?
You were good eating:
salted, you lasted the whole winter,
I saved your teeth in a jar,
in case I need fishermen,
instead of farmers.