Monday, August 23, 2010

Momma


Boredom.
Sitting.
Standing.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Standing.
Sitting.
Boredom.

It is the mantra of the house-wife.
Married to a house.
Making sweet love to the house?
Love.
House-love.
Making house-love with a house-wife?

Stop.
Stupid train of thought.
Of course not.

Boredom.
Busy.
Quiet.
Very very quiet.
Mothers?
Little?
Helper?

Where are you?
Right here.

I am right here.
Dressed in white.
All squared up.
I am looking right at you.

No.
You are just a box.
An electric wordy box.

Cooking.
Baking.
Sewing.
Making.
Stitching love.
Across the page.
It goes along from age to age.
Doing my job just fine.
Making rhythm with the time.
Having fun, this boy of mine.

Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.

Son's come in.
From outside.
Soft voice.
A bicycle ride.


Sitting at my table.
Here is he.
With me.
He wants to play.

And now?

I've got to go.

See?

Mom has got to go.
How could I say no?

No comments:

Post a Comment