Don Quixote, my husband

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Some of my family and my husband went to our local museum today. It was a great chance to feel, and possibly, be, more cultural. Rather than ogling over another present (lovely though all presents are ☺), we examined a Chagall, and viewed The Native American Indian photograph collection done by Edward S. Curtis.

My poem, inspired by the journey:

Don Quixote, my husband

Here my husband peers through another artist’s interpretation of a horse
Sometimes called half moon
My mother, a docent, taking us through her Figge Museum in Davenport, Iowa
Tells us the secret of the sculpture

I think of Picasso’s Don Quixote Windmills picture
When I see my husband juxtaposed with this horse.

I think of the battles Don Quixote fought, real and imagined
And the battles my husband fights for me,
That are both real and in the world
And also existing in the mind, like my jealousies.

My husband is my Don Quixote.

I am glad he has a figurative horse to take him
Through both the trials and successes with me!

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