If I had married her then I’d be him.
How else can you explain his reticence?
Her rage, her manic conduct on a whim
Would drive to silence anyone with sense.
Her unpredictability assaults
Him like a Caribbean hurricane.
His levees, walls, and sandbags aren’t faults.
Who wouldn’t seek protection from her rain?
The more he hides the more she must attack
To penetrate his stony barricades.
And when she fights he never does fight back,
And so her lonely fury never fades.
She storms for a response but he’ll defer.
If I had married him then I’d be her.
Michael Karson, Ph.D. 