They hand her over to her new
owner, gift-wrapped in white and
lace, all smiles and the promise
of continual care, perhaps forever.
She offers teacups like peace
offerings, banishes headaches like
a seasoned nurse, turns down
the bed with tender precision.
He recedes into the comfortable
illusion of being a boy, looked
after again by a vigilant mother,
every whim catered with a nod.
But there’s a clause, fine print like
a spider’s web spun at midnight:
If defective she can be returned
with a receipt, forgotten like a toy.
She knows this but tucks it away
in the back of her mind, where
flyaway thoughts go, hidden
under layers of ironic smiles.
She becomes the keeper of his
ease, the manager of his moods,
knowing that one day she may
just become obsolete or returned.
-
Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: November 25th, 2024 05:35
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
Offline)
Comments2
There are layers of meaning to this poem, and they extend to all types of relationships in our society. Although this reads has something from the past, it remains in the present even more so. A very strong metaphor here.
Thank You Soren, I appreciate your feedback. This was inspired by a Sylvia Plath poem.
Great write
Thank You Tony
You're welcome
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