By Louise Glück
Louise Glück / El límite
Time and again, time and again I tie
My heart to that headboard
While my quilted cries
Harden against his hand. He’s bored-
I see it. Don’t I lick his bribes, set his bouquets
In water? Over Mother’s lace I watch him drive into the gored
Roasts, deal slivers in his mercy… I can feel his thights
Against me for the children’s sakes. Reward?
Mornings, crippled with this house,
I see him toast his toast and test
His coffee, hedgingly. The waste’s my breakfast.