The Housewife

Once, in a small yard in the middle
of endless repetition, and the everyday
stretching like the white sheets drying
on the line,

she picked up a shell and put it against
her ear, longing for the sound of comfort.
But instead of humming surf, she heard
city traffic

and espresso machines hissing. She saw
a sea of briefcases and tall buildings, waves
of people rushing to the entrance of subways.
She saw

women in high heels and short skirts, up early
for breakfast meetings and business mergers,
their ears pressed to cellular phones, hands
busy with sheets

of paper. Reports, appointments, possibilities
stretching like the ocean. Everyday different
like their wardrobe; nothing but their careers
on the line.

That night she climbed into bed and lay
with her ear to her husband’s bare chest
and wondered what it meant that she heard
only his heartbeat.

*****

I wrote this around the end of February, when I wanted to explore another interpretation of Want versus Need. There are so many versions, I guess, and right now, I'm in the middle of a tug of war between these two, and sometimes they can be so far away from each other.

(What's the fifty-dollar word for polar opposites? Di- or dia-something. Somebody help.)

But this poem was borne of different images I wanted to explore; my only criteria then was to show the seemingly opposite worlds of where one is and where one wants to be. Is the grass always greener where you are not? If so, how and when do you get to satisfied, or even it's paler version, content?

In any case, how far can one put herself in another person's shoes? From the images in my head, the poem flew from my hands and took me in this direction. I am not a housewife, nor a career woman, and I don't mean either woman any disrespect.