I find it hard to say the word
husband.  

Still. After all these years. To say the word
husband  

says more than I can keep up with
sometimes—  

the revelations made in the split second it takes
to pull the tongue off the roof of the mouth,  

the momentary pang of fear
that the label will have consequences,  

barbing the wires of personal progress
muddled in thought regressions.  

And, yet, partner or spouse, which is adequate,
feels, sometimes, inadequate,  

giving myself a pass
instead of owning something earned,  

caving into the fear
that I was never supposed to have  

the kind of joy
that comes from saying the word  

Husband
because I can.