His Burden
early morning she goes out
putting orange juice in a cellophane
without bread or cookie
she sips like a child
she cannot be outdone by him
she walks a kilometer or so
and he would be looking for her
for hours filled with anxiety
then she finds her without her bra
in the marketplace
singing and dancing
the people looking at her with pity
tired she sleeps on one of the benches
and snores aloud
dirt is on her feet and arms
and hair and breasts
he finds her finally
and takes her with his arms back home
where his daughters are waiting
for their mom
his burden is his wife
besieged by the mystical furies
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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