Like the Very Mold on My Bread Is He

(in parody of Sappho)

by Stephanie Scarborough
 
Like the very mold on my bread is he who
sits in his recliner all day, who watches
football games and yells, "Hey, bring me a beer, toots!"
        Oh, I'm in love.  And

cater all for him.  And he just won't hear it
when we're out of chips, and we're short on Chee-tos.
"Darn it, Jan, go to the store!"  his voice cries,
        like I'm doing nothing.

And I'm almost driven to violence, under-
neath my skin my red blood boils and fuses,
and I give him the evil eyes, the look that
        makes males shudder.

And he hauls out of his chair on contact,
moves his body, runs to the car, and takes off;
we both know I have that guy trained.  I sit down
        while he does the shopping. 

 2002 by Stephanie Scarborough. All rights reserved.
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