5 minutes in Woolies
--
What a luxury it must be, to stand so tall
and protest, that you love that little girl,
when you’ve never had to pick yourself up
and make it fun,
had to wipe your tears
then make it fun
or decorate a cake,
when you’ve been cut down
to nothing.
You’ve never had to clean
to avoid sitting
so you had to make it fun,
until you were both a maid and a disposal unit, for unending cruelty.
How grateful you must be,
that you’ve never been kicked out in the night and told your child to close her eyes
to make it fun, like a game,
so she doesn’t see her Mum being destroyed.
How fortunate that you didn’t have to
take your daughter on ‘holidays’
to make it fun,
when you haven’t slept for months without fear,
when the phone was ringing until it wasn’t.
Count yourself lucky,
that you’ve never had to climb through windows to find someone unconscious so often,
that you left the fly wire down permanently
as your daughter sat on the front step with a lollipop,
to make it fun.
Be thankful,
that you never had a woman try and mutilate everything in you
and still be considered fun,
a larrikin at the bar,
a monster in the morning,
sycophants and monkeys telling you how lucky you must be
that your beloved is just so fuckin fun