He forced their mother, many years ago,
to submit to the honeymoon conditions.
She had to climb mountains in the daytime,
he held her over a cliff —
he dangled her,
making her swear she wasn't frightened,
that she was a woman and she trusted him.
If she combed her long, honey-blonde hair,
she had to climb the high mountains with him,
be dangled over cliffs,
with a Valentine waistline and heavy-lidded eyes.
(she must despise him now)
No, she must depend on him now,
like a voice and its echo.
She trusted him night and morning
and had managed to walk
across the high, narrow footbridge of his life
away from the grief, and the confusions
of her own life.
she must depend on him now.