We All Want an Argonaut Husband
by Katie McMorris
mainly to say we have one
someone to steer our ships
teach us to predict
storms someone to shave
the backs of our thighs
to carry us when our heels ache
we all want an Argonaut
husband but get stuck
with half-eaten lemons and
excess fishtanks what lousy
substitutes for men we rent
out the cineplex pretend
we’re elbow-linked with lovers
watch the onscreen ladies
swoon in feather boas
and three-story homes
we can’t go home knowing
there’s only one toothbrush
one bathrobe no one to help
clean the gutters when ice freezes
in the downspout and looks
like a sea sponge mouth
we’ve never seen a sea
sponge perhaps we’re wrong
an Argonaut husband could
tell us could thaw the cold
it’s hard doing everything
ourselves we alchemize
our kitchenware into wedding
rings store them in coffee cans
for the husbands who will come
we set fire to our bedrooms
watch our dolls melt in their
cribs oh how the painted eyelashes
glow we lace up our corsets
and run from the house
an Argonaut husband already
spraying flames waiting
to wrap us in golden fleece
holding us so tight we can’t hear
the neighbors clapping
that distant muffled applause