‘a room of one’s own’
a corner for yourself
deep in the crevices of
the house you made home-
therein lies a contradiction
fattened by your services-
mondays are towel days
and thursdays for fresh linen
time enough for pressing shirts
knead your way into the flour
bake till brown
don’t forget to make the lists
endless needs
feeding on your services-
other people do the same
too
‘why can’t you be happy”
with my lot?
‘with your lists and the sunshine’
in a corner of your house
there is a slice of life
a residual shadow
of who you are
and tiny tea cups from childhood
friends huddled together
giggling beyond words
pausing only to giggle more
‘how do you feel right now’
cliches from a stranger
sitting squarely across the room
listening to your voice
when you open your mouth
several people pour out
none you know
all you own
one hour
tick
tock
clock your hours
and
systematically corrode
the day
the sun sets in the corner
of your eyes
tired from being open
burning with rage
for the lost time
losses of another time
‘a room of ones own’
a corner for yourself
Virginia struggling
Plath recoiling
hiding in your crevice
in the corner of your house you made home
