This woman has a drunk for a husband,
Philanderer, two-timer,
Her culture makes it unacceptable not to accept,
Buttoned down, buttoned up,
Under the carpet,
Behind the stairs,
She cries in the night like a cat, no tears,
All her sadness whispered to the moon
And me – who once was there.
The rage is tiring her, escaped,
Always out of her grasp:
She has no focus to direct it against the man who, slab-like,
Wobbles his belly along the street
In upright, overweening pride -
Oh culture, this is thy shame! 
A Drunk for a Husband
This is a verse of the poem "As I walked home". Buy the book here
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