The first time I married
I took my husband's name for mine
& added Mrs.
I pulled it over my ears,
a woollen cap,
even when it scratched in warm weather.
I was his falcon, hooded.
I was his pigeon, banded.
I sank into his name like a feather bed
& neglected to rise in the morning.
I crept under his wing
like a fledgling
too small to spread its own feathers.
Now I add your name to mine,
proud & frightened.
This time I keep my own,
I surrender nothing.
Still this act
reminds me of captivity---
sweet and dangerous.
Forgive me when I grow fierce
& understand
when I seek wild mountain meadows.
Author: Karen Ethelsdattar
