the domestic disappointed

overexposed and burning.
at the cheekbones.
brow bones.
chicken bones.

lint in milk
is the stuff
your cousin
so pretty, refined,
with her planner
so yellowed
in the urgencies
of a careerist
and desired,
imagines, speaks,
lies about,
to raise their heads,
not wanting more.

intentionally worked.
at the shoulders.

frayed bookbags
are the tears
your mother
too tired, resigned
to waiting at tables
so stained
in the throwaways
of old sangria
and cheap,
remarks, laments,
turns away,
to leave you looking,
hearing it all.

chastised and distrusted.
at the doorstep.

you’ll never fold laundry
exactly how she’d like it.

but at least for once
you’ll meet those who won’t mind.

*Cat No. 36 of the 500 Cats Project

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