After Denise Riley – affections must not

This is an old new fiction, gingerbread
Snapped by teeth, dunked in tea, softly mouthed
One, two, three, gobbled.

And how on earth shall I know
When in Heaven
To stop the gobbling, the slurping, who’ll tell me?

You know what? I will not leave off eating when
Husband can say, “I will not tolerate this bad example.”
Children can say, “I will not own a gobbler for a mother, gutsy.”

And as I drift in and out of the kitchen
Work undone, pots not washed
Washing oozing out of smelly baskets
Why all this domesticity?

F*** it.

What is dust to me? From dust we were
Born
And to dust
                                We shall return
Ad infinitum – so toss it off boys

I.                    Reject.          The.       House-key.

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