Another Tuesday Morning

One of my best friends sent this poem to me a decade ago. I unearthed it in an e-mail. Even though it's a bit dark, I liked it all over again. Thought I'd share.

It's quite the contrast to my Tuesday Morning

* * * * *

Tuesday Morning

Sitting at the table drinking coffee
with three other women.
Their conversation splashes, sparkles,
and tinkles as they discuss
a new tooth, basting an oven roast,
Bible study class...

It's my turn. I have to say something.
My words are a black slithery thing
which oozes into a dank, unmoving pool.
My friends' faces change as they
mentally step back from the dark water
threatening at their feet.

Who's the imposter here?
Am I so wrong?
Am I a little crazy?

Fifty Years Later

I am a woman reared to rear children in a world which doesn't need any more children.
Nagged by fear.
Just another harness-maker thinking about the automobile.


~ Anonymous