Friday, 28 October 2005

Home by Kate Smurthwaite

“You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right.” Maya Angelou

“Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in.” Robert Frost, The Death of the Hired Man

“There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.” Jane Austen

There’s no escaping “home”

I have to go there

And I’m supposed to like it

Him and his dirty plates

Never a hint of gratitude

Piles of laundry

(He never wears things more than once)

He doesn’t know how to use anything

Except the TV

He doesn’t move for hours

He doesn’t even watch anything good

Just junk-vision, garbage, dumbed-down nonsense

I need to unwind after work, is that really too much to ask?

They never seem to sit still

And their needs are never-ending

Meals, snacks, drinks

Help with their toys

With their homework

(Usually nothing more worthwhile than colouring)

They need to be supervised and assisted

While they wash

Clean their teeth

Pull the clothes I’m always repairing on and off

Not this jumper, it’s scratchy, I don’t like it any more

It paces about, panting wetly

Threatening to soil the carpet or the cupboard under the stairs

(Like it’s punishing me for not paying it more attention)

Needs to be walked

Needs to be fed, watered, brushed

Needs to be de-wormed and de-flea-infested

Sheds it’s stinking fur on every piece of upholstery in sight

Rrrrufff rrruff ruff-ruff-ruff-ruff-ruff

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