Good Husband (Ted Hughes)

I take them.
I juggle Nicholas on my hip and hold Frieda’s hand.
Whisper to them
The nonsense adults think children want.
Daddy-this, Daddy-that,
I am sure you hear such jabbering in dreams.

I walk them to a bench, or a soft spot beneath a tree.
Try to teach them the different bird songs,
Help them gather their flowers and rocks.
I am a good husband.
I give you your graveyard visits.
I tell the children how you miss their laughter when it is gone.

I let you sit at the desk,
With that feverish concentration of yours,
Digging the words from your brain,
Fisting the pen as a knife.
Killing yourself,
Again and again and again.

If I tired of you, of your endless moods,
Of your doubts,
Of your seething blame,
You cannot hate me.
I remain a good husband, taking the children,
Trying to let you die.

2003