deepundergroundpoetry.com
Trapped
You claim to be stuck
In a 1950’s marriage.
That’s how your feeling
I’ve no wish to disparage.
However, I just don’t understand.
Were you made to dress
In long, pleated, skirts
with Betty Crocker coiffure?
fold my laundry, iron my shirts
Keep the household spic and span?
In twenty nine Falls, Winters,
Springs, and Summers,
I have requested
nary one load of my laundry be washed
or for one single wrinkle be smoothed.
No line of separation ever drawn
between what is man and what is woman’s work.
Your freedom I never curtailed,
pleased to see you do as you please
I’ve striven to be kind in the main,
never criticize, rarely complain
Yet in many things I have failed
I could have complemented more
told you you’re beautiful more often
Invite you out on more dates.
From mothering given more breaks
Or shop more at the grocery store.
Perhaps what seals most our fate
was our failure to communicate.
In a 1950’s marriage.
That’s how your feeling
I’ve no wish to disparage.
However, I just don’t understand.
Were you made to dress
In long, pleated, skirts
with Betty Crocker coiffure?
fold my laundry, iron my shirts
Keep the household spic and span?
In twenty nine Falls, Winters,
Springs, and Summers,
I have requested
nary one load of my laundry be washed
or for one single wrinkle be smoothed.
No line of separation ever drawn
between what is man and what is woman’s work.
Your freedom I never curtailed,
pleased to see you do as you please
I’ve striven to be kind in the main,
never criticize, rarely complain
Yet in many things I have failed
I could have complemented more
told you you’re beautiful more often
Invite you out on more dates.
From mothering given more breaks
Or shop more at the grocery store.
Perhaps what seals most our fate
was our failure to communicate.
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