Marriage

You have that joke about Euripides.
Euripides pants, you buy-a these pants!
which brings us back to The Bacchae, 
and questions of interpretation.
I try to remain optimistic,
even as I’m ripped apart,
but you’re waiting for an epic
where the forest for women is an escape
from the oppressive structures of the city,
an epic that never seems to come,
until you write it in dactylic hexameter.
Marriage is this animal with two heads,
one body, and we move near 
the light so we can see.
My neck rubs against your neck,
as you read your epic to me.