She Wants Her Husband



Don’t even pretend like you don’t see it.  Those lords of two realms. The past and the future. A cluster of wisdom aged to perfection, escaping dead pigment bondage. Strands of silver-gray seekers, revealing her here and her now. Long have been the strands as nights deemed magically wise, with the stroke of a brush. A hairbrush and a dab of styling gel. Laugh out loud at this first crack of b(lack) - of melanin in a sample patch. Bringing on a new identity. A new verse. A new take on life with the loss of an addiction to the youth of  her racquetball and bowling days. When she had no inhibitions about most things including selling Artistic Impressions, Annette2 and Mary Kay.. But she does not want her bravery  back. Or does she? “Just call me Ava, darling,” she says. She’s a new occupation. Not some withered leaf. So indulge her and overprotect her while she’s still orgasmic and her vision is 20/20 (corrected). Everybody fears death. She never did, though. Paternal great grandmother was the inspiration they’ve prepared her for since she was twelve.. Thighs,  and long silver locks forth-coming, they always wailed. Age gracefully. Age beautifully. But she is kind of scared. She doesn’t swim that well. The ice is melting. Lava exploding. There’s no more inland in her dreams. She flies and gets lost amongst others who know more. But in life- awake 

Look to a woman whose mystery- is her wisdom, who was never new here, and appreciates stillness and quietness and admires patience. She can feed you well and love you to death.

There is no other woman, here. She is not another woman. There is only this woman. She wants her husband, now.



 Anyone can teach you about love.I can make you good at it.

| Photo & Prose by Jackie D. Rockwell |All Rights Reserved © 2008-2021 |