The waking day
Washing machine and
Clothesline - I am motherly;
Carer; Sisterly
Lover on every day.
Taking my largest
Body to the crater of
This firey earth - without
Men; without lust;
Without my demanding children
Who burn in the morning
And mourn me when I'm gone.
I am washing whitened sheets;
A man I loved yesterday;
Never to care again for his
Five o'clock;
The steak on his futile plate.
I am now matriarchal.
Singing in the pulpit
Of these domestic
Blisses - I go to sleep.
A contest entry
- 9. 9. 9 by CarolDesjarlais.
1400 points, ended September 23, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Wow, interesting poetry....I caught the labor day fire...ah, indeed I did....
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