Angel In The House
She rings the doorbell
and walks in.
Rush hour begins…
In no time, kitchen sink crowded with dirty dishes,
charred pots and pans like in Exo Bar commercials
gleam, wink and twinkle.
The broom navigates its course
through the room, like the deft moves
of the mouse on the desktop
in the manicured hands of the mistress.
She hangs wet clothes on the line
as political scams are laundered for next day’s sound byte
by her bossy counterpart.
Aerobic lessons and fitness programmes,
no match for her figure and stamina.
Academic conferences and seminars
on equal wages for women
fall short of the ‘home maker’
who makes many a home on a single day.
The sweat of her labour squares gender polarity
in her own home and elsewhere.