Henpecked
HENPECKED
She’s written all over his back:
“Kick me” “loser”
She holds the reigns.
“Whoa… where do you think your going?!”
His children walk over his cobblestone back
With their ten pound clown shoes
Those aching feet whine endlessly:
“Father, I need more money!”
He gallops to the pub
And drinks the dregs of sin.
Spends his own hammer and nails,
They shake in his brown ale.
He returns home when he’s nowhere
Near sober, says his prayers whilst in his coma.
The bed squeaks with all his flaws,
His wife doesn’t feel him at all.
She nails herself to a 10 foot cross
Though she keeps sliding down.
Neither nails nor ropes will keep her.
The children burn the wood in effigy.
“Ring-a-round the roses,” they sing
Trying to fit into each little chair.
The psychiatrist just scratches his chin.
And ka-ching, the sound of alms for him.
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
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