Or What?

‘Get out of my way’ he said, 

As he push her out of their bed

Crawling back on her knees, she asked, 

‘Lord is this my husband or another as he, masked?’ 

***

‘Get out of my way!‘ he yelled 

As she clenched her fists; her anger he fueled 

But move, she did for she had learned,

That a husband’s anger must have been earned 

***

‘Get out of my way‘ he screamed 

And flung away all the salad she had creamed,

She picked the bowl and down she slammed,

That little bowl together with every patience in her, crammed 

***

‘Or what?‘, she fumed 

Before his own words could even have bloomed 

For she, to herself, had reckoned 

That she only must give her husband, what he had himself beckoned

****

‘Or what?’ She whispered 

As the bulb in the hospital room flickered,

‘Or rice and stew’  he answered 

She walked out to the canteen confused; for she couldn’t decide whether for her husband’s sickness, she was super delighted or simply unsad.