Good Bad Father Husband 

Summer evenings they’d sit on the porch, he’d smoke 

tell jokes a little out of reach but 

she’d still laugh and he’d smile, steal her a sly wink, 

talk about baseball, football, 

about fields and crops and the weather, 

always the damned weather. 

He was a hard worker she knew, an honest man who cared, 

was proud of his family, 

a man that stood up - would fight if need be. 

He’d drive out to meet her when she missed a bus 

or he’d chase those silly boys from the house if she asked him 

and there was always enough to eat, 

new clothes to wear and sure, 

he’d come home drunk once in a while and get angry 

at her Mother 

but he’d never hurt his daughter or her brothers 

and he’d never stayed out all night and she loved him, 

knew one day she’d marry a man like him. 

A good man, 

just like her Father - 

Winter evenings she sits in the kitchen, 

thinks about her Husband, his jokes make her laugh, 

he explains to her the secrets of baseball, football 

talks about his work in the city 

the damned traffic there and back. 

He has a good job now she knows, 

earning well, lavishing her and the girls with gifts 

keeping them in this fine old house in the suburbs. 

Respected around town he loves 

taking his family to those fancy restaurants 

so he can show off his beautiful wife 

and gorgeous little daughters and sometimes 

she feels the silent envy of women 

who consider themselves above her. 

And then she thinks again about her husband, 

who once in a while comes home just a little drunk 

beats her and takes her 

as she bites into a towel so the kids can’t hear 

how she runs home to Mother 

who reveals scars on her own battered skin 

they hold each other and cry. 

And she remembers returning the next day, 

back to the house, 

back to her children, 

back to the Husband who, 

in the dark is a bad man, 

just like her Father. 

©lb04