Marge Simpson

Knows the heart ache of canaries.
Hummimg bird to spilt milk
No friends same dress
Pearls that rarely dance
Five dollar rose bouquets
Without a stanza even
Hefty husband beer kisses
On the cheek
Crazy kids wandering these streets
Parental rage mortality, she’s too soft
And tired
Barking dog and the on off cat
Everything breaks in this house
Except time
20yr old paint 90s TV
Holding up her hair
Really it’s a breakdown
Oven always blazing
Hungry hungry home
Staring into the food disposal unit
Searching for a moon
Stain removal is her hobby now
Catching dust before they land
Meaty dishes is her sadism
Baby maggie’s loud sucking is her tick tock
Listens to the world through grocery bags
The world between her kitchen curtains
Shards of sun light through old laundry
She knows the heart ache of canaries
Kids are miners, so it’s ok
Tumble dryer on the go on empty
To drown it’s sad song.

Early night mother marge
To wake the rooster
Set this mechanism for morning
Fried eggs and bacon is her fragrance
Cold coffee kisses is her seduction
A glimpse of the outside
Leaving without goodbyes
Thinking she’ll be in stasis
Awaiting their messy return
She disappears into baby wailings
Never ending grains swallow her
Until every floor is pristine
When did she begin?
Stuck in the suds that dissolve her
Only her knees will tell
Always keeping her balance
Holding up her hair
Winding ever higher
Really it’s a breakdown
A bomb, who’s got the detonator?
A reverse Rapunzel for an angel of death
Walking under telephone wires
Staring into the food disposal unit
Meaty dishes is her sadism
Maybe over using brushes is her self harm
A million blue snakes biting
As she twists those curlers
Further and further
Pulling off it’s feathers
To warp it’s sad song.

Folding all the time
Mad walls talking nonsense
Snoring shatters her dreams
Everything breaks in this house
Except time
A loft of paintings from the 80s
Hidden from this new world
Forever in their glory
A groovy glimpse of her past
Left without goodbye
Ever think back to high school?
Back then
Marge before Mother marge
Hair down lapping her figure
Books held by her breast rather
Wide strider going places
Before him
Looser looser merry boozer
Before her world narrowed
Between kitchen curtains
Crockery is her canvas now
Stain removal is her hobby
Her dreams
Gather dust as did her paths
Don’t look back
Footsteps Like heart beats
Give life to it’s sad song

Everyone’s out again
Hefty husband beer kisses
On the cheek
Thinking she’ll be in stasis
It’s quiet
The house is spotless
Awaiting their messy return
Baby’s catered to
Like a deity
She’s about to cry
Tumble dryer on the go on empty
Hearing the heart ache of canaries
When the door bell rings
Saving her from it’s sad song

At the dining table
No one talks but the cutlery
Will tonight be the night
She sings?
Forget it
It’s dinner time
Crockery is her canvas
And its time to shine

The featured image, ‘Last Night I Dreamt that Somebody Loved Me’, was used with permission of artist, Robert Alan, a mixed media artist from New York City.  

Neth Brown

After taking poetry to the stage and getting into anthologies over the past few years, Neth has started to take poetry more seriously as an art form. She is a self-taught painter and writer who loves details. Neth seeks to raise the issues of today in lyrical, metaphorical and satirical ways.

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