On the Way to the Floating Palace

On the night before my departure,
the only evidence of my senior husband
was the light spilling under the door of his study.
This morning, his body was warm in my bed,
but he couldn't be roused.
Last night my junior husband and I
rolled like puppies on the silk rug,
and he wouldn't meet my eyes when I left
for my senior husband's quarters.
This morning, he was playing soccer with my sons.

Riding with my sisters to the floating palace,
we meditate on the ways of men.
A woman could buy ten husbands, and still have no one
to see her off on a month-long pilgrimage!
To be alone is the natural state of a woman.
My youngest sister suggests breakfast.