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