Mindy has a thankless extra work load. Her ankles swell, her feet ache and her eyes are bleach stung.
For seven hours she toils knowing that the man who promised to cherish her rests. Back through traffic she poodles, returning to collect her babies.
The washing basket is overloaded. Filthy dishes and a sprawling husband meet her, Mindy cuts herself peeling potatoes and scalds her hand when washing up,
Mop, bucket, duster, spray, more bleach. She moves from room to room fatigued.
Clothes are hung on the airer and another bundle shoved in. Her husband sleeps, Only waking when handed his roast, he eats and complains about hard carrots. The boys need help with their homework. They need a bath. They need a drink.
Her husband demands money, his mates are in the pub. A release from nagging wives, She sighs, the bills are mounting. He holds his fat, soft hand out and she fills it sadly.
The boiler is broken, has been for some time. She builds a fire from litter in the hearth, Plastic melts on her stinging hand. The boys run in and out soiling tiles with dirty prints, The mopping begins again. Mindy is tired, not just sleepy, tired of living. The boys argue.
None of her friends come around now, she is too ashamed of her home,
Ashamed of a home she slaves to keep. Ashamed of a bullish husband, depressed by apathy.
There is no light ahead for Mindy. She cries in the bathroom alone whilst wiping the sink, Or pulling hair from the scum laced shower plug, in the next room her sons bounce,
A slat snaps and she rushes in dutifully to fix it, over the years becoming adept at caretaking.
The bedtime story is ignored, music booms and the lads bicker even though bed time has passed.
Midnight, she cleans again, the children are silent. She hates waking up to mess,
She dozes until woken by the front door banging at two in the morning. Mindy lays still.
It doesn't matter, the oaf still wants congress. He tries and falls asleep moody and frustrated.
Buzzing, annoying buzzing, Mindy knew it was time to get up, again and again, One dark, foggy morning she takes her husband's abandoned hunting gun,
The trigger is pulled, but first she cleans. Every woman in the street knows why.
Out There
Too abundant is the sky for us to be desolate. Out there beyond the telescope's glare,
A planet orbits two beautiful Super Novas.
Not Carbon based, not needing our atmosphere, Magnificent creatures, unidentified insects, Energizing through gaseous environments.
Staring into the heavens, Wondering if they are alone.
Traveller
In my dreams I saw the grand universe, I was a giant, or an ant!
A flea imagining the Colossus that is Earth, An amoeba envisaging the boundless galaxy!
In my dreams I saw something greater, Time,
Endless time, Tesseract, Vastness,
Every second in every space captured in form.
A fourth dimension,
Each place, set by the cosmos' definition of horizon, repeated, Every moment captured in perfect unison,
Unlimited, monumental, tremendous!
The Universe, all that is, multiplied exponentially, Infinite,
I am inconsequential! Less than a speck,
Respective histories stacked.
I envision a fold, conceptualize the possibility, Stepping through time,
Existing through my ancestors' genes, Or my successors' futures.
Travelling from eon to era, A pilot,
An adventurer,
My undertaking may cause me to change the past, Turning the course of history to what it is today!
A gap through which the soul can travel, Past genes or past lives,
Perhaps to a period elapsed in another galaxy. An explorer,
Confined by our own science, our own life span, If only I had more time!
Ballyhoffman in Falun
She should have married on All Hallows Eve,
On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun,
But the roaring ocean carried her handsome man away
On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.
Every anniversary in bridal dress she kneels by the sea,
On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun,
She waits patiently for her Groom to return,
On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.
Living as a recluse only leaving her home to walk,
On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun,
Withering over time, staring at her wizened reflection,
On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.
Until one dark night the masterful sea spews his body,
On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun,
He rises shaking in his matrimonial suit, pasted with coral,
On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.
Holding hands in cool silence they step into the sea whispering vows,
On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun,
Two seaweed soaked corpses tread the sands on All Hallows Eve,
On the beaches of Ballyhoffman in Falun.
Please do read ‘Tackling the Bear’ my extensive compilation of works, available at a bargain price on Kindle
With love
Kerry
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