Domestic as a Plate
My twelve-year-old son,
who is beautiful,
reminds me
I did a wonderful job
as this forty-year-old housewife
here in this neighborly well-worn house.
He is my straight man.
Who else feels that way for me?
My kitchen, my refuge,
shimmers with soft loving light
while I sit
waiting for the usual things,
dinner and my favorite shows.
When I enter my muscular living room,
I feel the harsh brown wood
at odds with my previous pleasant mood.
There is no light texture,
as in the kitchen,
rather it is a firm, tough veneer
staring at me.
I am reminded all is not well somewhere.
I am only this housewife.
My son watches television with me.
He relaxes me, soothes my nerves.
He tells me thus that I love.
My bedroom is at variance, too.
Every time I walk in the colors
of my clothes closet accuse me
of being a fake.
I am not real.
But I feel real.
The mirror also fails to give a faithful image.
I feel that I've cheated life.
My husband respects us.
I close my eyes to any accusation.
I am glad to be in my husband's arms.
It is back in the living room
where the furniture has a tough glare
that I expect all family drama.
The kitchen endures as my oasis,
and I sit there with my daily coffee.
I can take all of life in this
resting place.

Comments:
 
Ve   Ve wrote
on 8/10/2009 7:05:25 AM
I hope to heaven that I don't end up a housewife. You can feel the lassies inner regret that she is not more, but a wife, mother and housewife are all important jobs and need doing. I am scared to go home now incase my bathroom walls talk to me or the bedroom reminds me not become my mother. You are quite estute in your understanding of how a home can become a prison. I am glad that she finds solace with her son and in her husbands arms but it is just more hiding isn't it? A very unsettling view of how a simple ambition can lead to torment. Nice.

shakatoah   shakatoah wrote
on 7/31/2009 9:07:45 AM
I really like the way you used the rooms in the house to reflect different feelings, thoughts, dilemmas. Such is the 'everyday' inner life of a loving wife and mother. I feel the balancing act as you walk us through from room to room. Well done. I enjoyed this.

StarPoet   StarPoet wrote
on 7/30/2009 12:35:39 AM
You describe the routine of most housewives so well here. I could feel her boredom and quiet desperation as I read. A good write you did here.

frederic
Poetry
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