Role Reversal

And he pacing about the house Had all the time to do The things he lost time for before To keep the promises He made to himself in each ritual Morning of his nine to five And yet as if disenfranchised by opportunity This switch of roles landslides his soul He made the bed with pillows fluffed Vacuumed the rug, swept the floor Fed the pet and scoured the bath And now to do the dishes He paused the way his mother always did Having done things in better time Than all the history he had known All the days of his unemployment Was a vortex to a vexing void ... yet If only he could complain and rinse His pride, silence drains love of so much He realized, stoic manhood is a fence, If only he had time enough To bring all concerns into convenience, He could go to the laundry mat too Without abdicating his internal throne. It was not the things he had to do It was the expectation in the eyes He had known It is not equal to when he provided When the personal need of each Was his responsibility, and he met them It was more the sorrow in their eyes The marginalization of his presence His being taken for granted That he would clean and pick up After their inconsiderate selfishness That left him forgotten To find a way still to provide For his own basic need He paced and paced inside the iron pen But nothing yield Read a book, write a poem, start a play Finish that novel using this experience Buzzards they were Circling him Watching him with a lurid eye.