POETRY

 Here's one I found for the ladies.  It is by Sara Passman and I think this is her latest.  She sent her poem to allpoetry.com and they printed it for us just this week. 

The Housewife's Tale 

Destitute howls quake the hallway
peeling the paint like a garden claw,
two sleepless days
stubbornly clutching at the crib bars,
the baby.
I’ve gifted her everything
my mother’s milk
my taut skin
my clarity
in a pink and white striped box
festively tied up with fluffy ribbons.

Bleach and tobacco seep into cracked hands
invisible filth
scrubbed from toilets and sinks.
Feet nubs pace pine board trenches
and I hold my breath
as a roach scampers across the floor.
Get the bleach
or the lemon scented kerosene.

Pot roast aroma warms the air,
hot plates hastily hit the table
gravy splashes the frayed placemats.
Nausea haunts my gut
I forget to eat again.

The children swing from my apron strings
pirates claiming their cut.
Tuck them neatly in their beds
mumble pleads for silence.