Land of Milk and Honey
In your country I want to learn,
learn to say no to my man
who pats my arm, says I’m ready—
plays macho, struts, all puffed,
then leaves me the problems.
I have ten children and I’m tired—
now my oldest gets pregnant.
I ask the kids to help, but they complain.
This is their land of milk and honey
and I’m the cow and the bee.
Home Run
Standing on the landing to go
to the dark cement basement
I sense my enemy, need
to dash from light pull to light pull,
like running baseball bases,
seeking safety at each lit stop,
passing stacks of Life magazines,
rounding the corner of the coal bin,
reaching the game dresser,
retrieving Sorry and Monopoly,
running home up the steps,
chased, almost taken out,
by the Boogeyman.
