postmodernfamilyblog

There they stand, pretty maids all in a row.

Salt of the earth #tradwives, wrapped in aprons

and humility, baking sour dough rolls

and buns in ovens since two became one.

The glory of their lord shines all about,

pillar cocked and smoking, an inferno —

a raging reminder of what’s been vowed:

be fruitful and multiply, trust and oh-

babes, you’ve let the laundry pile up and re-

sentment rush in, gathering here, drifting

there, coating your once-fertile crescents in

barren grains of sand. Your mindsets must shift,

be pliant, dutiful, beautiful, not

lost shakers of salt, defying your lot.

…I mean how much good could should would truly come from plumbing your depths beyond the breadth of your womb your tomb your lead balloon waking shaking breaking (no mistaking it) free willy-nilly I mean really from your perimeter placement on the parched and patterned pages of that aged staged staid and time to be waylaid patriarchy?

by Heather Peters Candela