An Unquiet Home
The confrontation mounts in stages:
her angry words, his silent rages,
until the kids have all been supped,
put to bed and been tucked-up.
Then behind their bedroom door,
he and she begin their roar:
“You always . . . ” are her words of choice
erupting in her blaming voice.
She’s splitting hairs, he contradicts.
It’s not as bad as she depicts.
The few times that he deigned to stray,
no matter what she now might say,
were exceptions to his usual rule.
He’s keeping track. He is no fool.
It’s hard to get it up these days.
and so sometimes perhaps he sprays
where he shouldn’t. He’s sorry for it.
Why is it that she can’t ignore it?
But still her words she must repeat:
“Why can’t you simply raise the seat?”
She shakes her head. He starts to cringe.
He’ll get the can and oil the hinge.
It will be easy to raise the seat.
He’ll keep it dry. Pristine and neat.
And so he does upon the morrow
find the solution to her sorrow.
He puts the seat up silently
before he deigns to take a pee.
But lest you think the battle’s done,
in truth I fear it’s just begun.
Later, when she takes her turn
she emerges with a look most stern.
His hands go up in consternation.
Now what’s the cause for her oration?
More shouted words. More angry frown.
Why can’t he put the loo seat down?????
The Prompt: A House Divided–Pick a divisive issue. Write a two-part post in which you approach the topic from both sides.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 