Mary, I get to

I get to clean your arms with witch hazel
I get to travel
I get to scrub hard
I get to return to the scene of the betrayal
I get to travel
I don't have to beat some woman's rug
so hard that blood
wells in my mouth
I don't have to go without
I get to say goodnight
I get to wash in the muscled river
that marks the county border
between the shires
of night and daylight hours
I get to raid the pantry
I get to sleep on the table
I get to travel
I get to abandon the heavy vales
I get to eat food with my hands and a knife
with my thumb on the blade
I get to hear about the wind
gathering foam from the sea
and scattering soapblossom over the roads
but missing your black hair
as it lashed like a cat o nine tails
and I hear it over the telephone
I get to hear the wind
I get to travel