In truth, it is a privilege to have a man,
To go with his linens to the river
Like the Pharaoh’s daughters,
Like the King’s maids
The day they found Odysseus
Washed up on the shore.

I love their company.
I love those days,
A warm sun,
A promising breeze,
The smooth, spring wooden pegs,
And crisp white boxer shorts
With two small buttons at the waist.

I love to set them sailing out 
All down the garden,
My private regatta,
My flags of surrender.