My Husband is in Taurus

which looks like posing
my fiddle leaf fig in the windowsill,
asking me after its watering schedule,
as if I know anything about them
but to throw them out when they die—

which feels like hotel bath robes,
fruit-scented oil massages after we get engaged,
my muscles always too sore from the precise masseuse,
his never sore enough;
ordering room service breakfast,
the toast accompanied by tiny jam jars—

which smells like pancakes on Saturdays,
the cleanliness only borne of bar soap,
rosemary and butter simmering on the stove,
my shampoo in his hair—

which sounds soft, a man
who never raises his voice,
his forearms anchored across my chest,
my temper a match in a gas oven
easily taken into his hands, blown out
before I manage to explode the both of us—

which tastes like honey and home,
sweet and steadfast.

About the Author

Briana Naseer is a Pakistani-American school psychologist and poet living in Chicago, Illinois. She has a bachelor’s degree from the University of South Florida, and a master’s degree in education and an education specialist degree from The Chicago School of Professional Psychology. Her debut poetry collection is entitled Rind.