Housewife (Poetry)

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Look at my closet

see the trinkets?

the things

my rings, the bling

and my appetite

for shoes

for thrills

for men who trawl

the intersections at 4

at dawn,

or when the moon

wets the skin

between my thighs

 

Look at my husband

a man

an object

thrice desired

emulated by the soldier

worshipped by the throng

by the God-man

who weeps for his soul

 

And look at me

the housewife

Plain Jane with an apron

and a miscarriage

on the way

–words by Teegee Villanueva

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