I was thinking about this recently and maybe when I don’t have a baby demanding all my attention, I will talk more about it, but here is a poem I wrote junior year of college. Ages ago.
Do you see me? I live, unashamedly, with my boyfriend
In a shabby apartment with two cats – I never do dishes
My hands turn bright radish red and burn when I scrub
The remnants crusting along the bottom of pots, bowls.
I learned how to knit this weekend – I’ve always known
I think, something ingrained in my fingers which proved
Unsuited for musical instruments, a failure at violin
Barely passable at piano, enough for a girl like me.
I was never meant to have a 4.0, never meant to go to
This school, I’ve been found to be unoriginal
Not remotely interesting. I was meant to make small talk with
A cocktail in one hand while my husband made business deals.
I bake cookies, brownies and muffins for fun instead of
Reading Nabokov or learning about Attitudes Based on
High Consumer Effort – I prefer to sew, knit, embroider
While watching TLC’s Trading Spaces.
I think I will be a housewife when I grow up – marketing
Is not for me. I will put up with dishpan hands, clean up
After two cats and send three kids to school, hoping they will
Do something with their lives – I will become my mother.