The Wife
THE WIFE
The fog smoking to the skies
Architecting more grey clouds
The ticking hands of the clock
Day getting old for more sunrays
With the luggage, I slam the door behind
Praying for traffic to fold up
Ugly devils working round my brains
The brakes should strike, screech with anger
Where exactly will my head lay tonight
If the mouth at home still not glued up
Chatterbox for a wife, willing agent of evil
A blessing confused for less in the brains
The litter flows out in the upper outlet
Words enough to fill a river down the ocean
A recorder would be witness at the jury
Noble men climb mountains for their queens
Go miles to fetch water not sleepy lazybone
They dance and kiss at the cocktails
The tape rewinds on my idle brain
Skies dark, at last pillow comfort my head
Tomorrow I fill my boot before the birds awake
Before the cockerel switches her day on I’ll run
Long trip to endless world with no soon return
Lovely note scribbled to my mother, my dear joy
The single woman my heart forever adores
But down on knees, heart to the High King
Miracles of ancient, heard still exist
Angels descend, its urgent or a soul falls
All gadgets at hand, replenish her every part
Or by the walkside, send me the perfect rib
Copyright © Esther Muchai | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment