fine-cut crystal, silver and gold
sparkle and entice. the table is laid
for guests aplenty.
savory aromas conjure visions
of sumptuous gravy, delectable roast,
crisp-cooked vegetables, and decadent desserts.
she’d stop to admire her handiwork,
but the children, tired and hungry
and bored with the waiting, tug at her hem.
Waiting. It is her greatest strength.
Prepare, prepare –
They’ll arrive shortly, noisily
full of their days, faintly aware
of the backdrop, happy to have left the babies.
And they’ll sit and be served
and remark on the deliciousness
and gobble up seconds
then push back their chairs
and wander off for a kip
or a smoke
and she’ll linger for a few minutes
picking at her congealed gravy- covered mashed
unconsciously dabbing at the red wine stain on the tablecloth
and marvel at how she accomplished it all
a trouper till the end
What’s that you say?
She’s sounding a bit like the martyr?
Oh no, you’ve found her out.
Superwoman has a dark side.