at five o clock the ladies all rise and the
heels on their shoes all click them goodbye

not too long after someone shatters
a vase of orchids on their way out

we sweep them up and they’re shut
under the dinner table now

office women shudder as they face each other
with utterances of wishing well

the most of the day is over but always
it keeps going and we go home

mama flicks the switch and the light hits
the kids goodnight

vile things in the cupboard like wine
and old cereals dying lying in coffin-like boxes

‘what’s it like to be a mummy’ little girl says
in the hum of after-supper

and mama, with her hand on her hip,
‘something so innocent you trip right over it.’

Julia Love

 

Julia Love goes to university where she studies visual arts and art education. When she isn’t drowning in studies, she writes. She writes about everything knocking at her heart, and she tries to do it as unapologetically as possible.

© 2019