dəˈmɛstɪk

By | 1 February 2019

police car in the driveway
bed unmade since yesterday
blue and red lights up the street
not far to fall
Christmas induced abuse
flee home at midnight
leave behind kids and plants to be watered
able to walk but not think
dog hiding in the garage
empty cheque-book empty tank
from suburb to city to sanctuary
soil to cement
each body is its own
owned by your husband, the church, the government
don’t pack the dirty dishes
no more knocks at the door
the coolest room in the house is the bathroom
jealousy overflows in the kitchen
still wearing wedding rings
falling in lust so young
with a man from afar
serve your husband not the house
set off the fire alarms in the kitchen
wear the pearls he bought you
spill gravy on your dress
he will sit at the head of the table
you will take your place to the left
be grateful for the blender, microwave, mixer
don’t touch the paperwork he brings home
the iron keeps his collars hard
you will not be believed
you own unwashed washing
turn up the transistor
smile at his parents
never know his origins
vacuum while he mows
calculate your escape on Sundays after Mass
every day on repeat

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