Why Am I Still Here?
Standing in front of the kitchen window
nothing particular going on in her head
she was almost dead from the neck up.
The washing machine bleeped plaintively
startling her out of her stupor
she felt her anger rise
and she kicked the blessed thing
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Then she felt ashamed and mumbled
"I hear you, I know you’re done…"
She thumped the off button hurting the heel of her hand
“That’ll teach you to use profanities
you silly woman, talking to a washing machine
you want locking up, you do”
She shuffled off into the conservatory
without emptying the machine;
having already forgotten it.
Looking out at the bedraggled garden
all she saw was the ghost of him moving about,
chopping down the overgrown foliage;
“NOT MAKING MUCH HEADWAY ARE YOU
YOU STUPID OLD BASTARD!!”
Her Voice, loud, shrill and angry made her jump.
Again the profanity seemed to pull her back
from wherever it was she had slipped to.
She looked back at the garden and remembered
he was gone, there was no one to cut back
the tangled mess
She sank down onto the chair and the tears rolled
unchecked down the paper thin wrinkled skin of her cheeks
“ What am I still doing here? Why didn’t he take me with him?”
She began to sob and then she got angry again.
"I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE UP TO YOU NASTY OLD BUGGER
YOU'RE ASHAMED OF ME, YOU MISERABLE FART. COME HOME…"
"Please come home to get me,"