Silly Man Chaff Stubble

This is a poem I wrote several years ago about the sense of displacement a man feels when he lives plural marriage.  A man sometimes feel like he doesn't have a home, like he floats between homes, beds, wives, etc.  Hence, this poem:

silly man chaff stubble

            a similitude but

true

                                                if woman is earth

                        you are blown across

her fertile flesh

tumbling like a tatter

but still

you cannot

            cover her

                                                                        if woman is sky

                                                            you are the little stitch

                                                of sterile substance

lost in immeasurable

                             blue

                             but still

                             you cannot

                                    fill her

                                                   silly man chaff stubble

                                                            flitting indecisive

                                                between beds

                                                            from woman

                                                to woman

                                                lost,

                                                            but with too much home

                                                always

                                                            trying to connect

                                                                    but not quite elastic enough

                                                                       nearly settled until blown

                                                between earth

                                                            and sky