Marriage: Getting Used To by Lorna Crozier
Marriage: Getting Used To
It did not take me long
to get used to his leather
wings, no, they felt good
like an old, much-loved coat
draped over my shoulders
It was his feet I couldn’t stand,
his horny feet, ugly as a bird’s,
the yellow claws and the pride
he took in them:
how he oiled the scales
and saved the clippings
making me a necklace
from the broken claws
sewing flakes of skin
like sequins in my clothes
Even his tricks were okay
the way his words turned
to flames at parties
sizzling flies from the air,
lighting cigarettes for ladies
with his tongue. It wasn’t that
that bothered me.
It was waking to find him
with a flashlight and a mirror
staring under the covers at his feet
It was his nails
clicking across linoleum
(he was too vain to wear slippers)
and after he had gone to work,
it was the fallen gold scales
that lay on the sheets like scattered coins