REPOST: “Bone of My Bone and Flesh of My Flesh”

I can’t always refer to the woman I love,my children’s other mother,as my darling, my beloved,sugar in my bowl. No.I need a common, utilitarian wordthat calls no more attention to itselfthan nouns like grass, bread, house.The terms husband and wife are perfect for that.Hassling with PG&Eor dropping off dry cleaning,you don’t want to say,The light of my life doesn’t like starch.Don’t suggest spouse—a hideous word.And partner is sterile as a boardroom.Couldn’t we afford a termfor the woman who carried that girl in her armswhen she was still all promise,that boy curled inside her womb?And today, when I go to kiss herand she says, “Not now, I’m reading,”still she deserves a syllable or two—if onlyso I can express how furiousshe makes me. Butmaybe it’s better this way —no puny pencil stub of a word.Maybe these are exactly the timesto drag out the whole galaxyof endearments: Buttercup,I should say, lambkin, mon petit chou.Set down War and Peace,just for a moment, and liftyour ruby lips to mine.And talking to the dishwasher repairman,the vacuum cleaner salesclerk, the womanin the Blue Cross billing departmentI could explain that I’d already sent the co-payfor my soulmate, my duckling,my chocolate-covered cream puff.Maybe it would brighten her day, too.Hello, I might say, you precious,you jewel, O queen among queens,darling, honey pie, angel,my sweet patootie.

- Ellen Bass

From On Being

RESPONSE: I love this, it is so close to my life. I love how I can feel, seen and understood. I shared this with my poetry circle and they enjoyed it also; talking a lot about the language discussion. That’s there too although again; how a poem ends is so critical. The author is almost funny with the other woman on her call. Fun🥰