Wake-up Call
This week two men came to stay
Plus one, of course, already here
Man’s work to be done
Involving shovels, mortar
Sand, breeze-block stacking
Loud voices and opinions
Mercifully not football
Spared Arsenal/ Man-U rows
And Chelsea, Liverpool and
All the inglorious rest
But need for stoking
Calories upon the plate
(Though I might call it tarte au chevre)
And constant brews
How fortunate there’s me indoors
To fly the female flag
My domain it seems
The kitchen, here I’m queen
Free to choose the menus
The hour for washing-up
Or other light domestic chores
And sometimes to essay
A contribution, verbal,
Of my own, or half at least
Before they interrupt
Snatch back the conch
Run the full pitch length
To touch it down
I’ve taken to flouncing
And sullenness, childish
Sad response
Just where would we be if
Germaine, the Pankhursts
The burners of bras
Hunger strikers, martyrs
Had burst into tears
Dissolving in petulant sulks?
Here where I am, seven days
Salutary
Thank god for the harridans
The strident the strong
Viragos and feminists
For solidarity with friends
For post-war birth date
The pill, women’s lib
Greenham, rights enshrined
Some attempts at least
At last at equality
Balance and redress
So easily tipped
Default position, masculine
Lesson learned this week
Wake up call
October 18th 2009, Hounoux
Oh men, honestly! And French men are even worse, had you noticed? Good that you were able to put it into a punchy poem. Wish I could do that when I'm really ticked off!
ReplyDeleteI genuinely was shocked to find myself in this unemancipated 'er indoors kind of role, Jenny, and it had a dreadful effect on me, in that I did just feel my spirits sinking and found myself unwilling/unable to stand up for myself. Goodness did I feel for women whose whole lives are spent in that kind of relationship and role!
ReplyDelete....And they still go out to work as well.
ReplyDeleteDon't get me started on this one!! Brilliant poem Sally and so in tune with tonights Grumpy Old Women programme (short respite). I'm too exhausted to laugh just finished the kitchen, sorted the bins and decorated the radiators with washing.
We might sometimes think that progress has been made, Jude, but we are never far from slipping backwards. It is after all a man's world and why wouldn't they want to default back to it? One of the visitors in the poem said after almost every meal, having watched me clear the table single-handed and wash up, 'Ooh, I do feel bad you doing all this. YOU SHOULD HAVE ASKED ME TO HELP!!!!'
ReplyDelete