Misery was finding a place in the house
that wasn’t actively being drenched and soaked,
and knowing that we only had a few hours before dark to do it.
I wish it wasn’t misery, oh—
Anslem, look here, this room it is dry, why
This little pantry? Will it even fit us lengthwise?
And what is this left her? Potatoes turned to dust.
But it’s the only dry place here,
We’ll sleep here, we must!
Alex looked excited, somehow,
to stay in the pantry.
I wonder about her, the joys of marriage,
All this time left to learn all her quirks, my quirks
and her wonders, our wonders
and her forms and her face,
Her miserable anger turned upward,
Her frustrated expression turned to—
What sort of face is that? Alexandre?!
Oh, you know…why don’t we set up here? (And quickly!)
Take out the parts of the cot, build it here, quick.
We haven’t yet seen the whole house, Alex, come
No, stay. Stay, we’ll stay here this way.
I’ve come to this place on your command, husband,
And now that we’re here, let me have it my way
This once, or twice, as much as I need.
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