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.
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