our domesticity

when the first burst of passion fades,

we have to de-flea the cat.

and i have stomach pains

we clean the toilet

we hoover up.

i remember the mornings

like they were in sepia

and you brushed the hair from my eyes

instead of smacking my arse

good morning.

i love you i love you

and the jealousy still echoes

her name.

you say i punish you

for things we can't change.

i feel closest to you

in the bath

and you're combing my hair through.

the suds mixing with cat hair

wrapped in a towel

with fleas biting my ankles.

well,

i never bargained on four nights alone.

i traded my youth, my right

to get drunk in bars

and go home with unsuitable men.

although i can't think

of anybody more unsuitable than you.

divorced

with two children

that she never lets you see.

you can't get a lawyer

because of me.

(they say we earn too much money)

i want to know

when the tiredness ends

when i get to have a baby

when you'll call me by my name

or is it just the seasons

making me unhappy?

Reviews

[Angi]

Sea Lily, this piece aches on the page. There is anger and resentment, too. Passion is such a powerful thing, we don't feel the bites and welts the fleas bring. The story that is unfolding before us tastes bitter to me. What will become of their domesticity? Angi~