They do not see me and I am twelve when I creep into the top corner of the kitchen. I watch them pour tea and drop spoons for years and now I am giggling.3 April 2019
I have stroked their egos, dressed up for them, painted my face for them (((FOR FREE))) for far too long. Only now, in this employment, am I rewarded for my efforts. Only now am I compensated for the endless, thankless task of Making Men Feel Good.
My only question is: where’s my goddamn backpay?
Sarah plays on the association of colours and words to write her poetry column for Farrago, using Taubman’s paint samples from Bunnings.
In another life I am
a malpracticing physician
Rotten under pressure, my training was for naught
It’s a comedy! People die!
Is sponge-like, encouraging
soapy suds, moisture
to develop in its hide.
You pull at its hair
and come away
Look, He says, Stick your hand in your head
twist the oyster-grey tubes. Feel their pulse. Still nothing?
We’ve been through this Twice tonight.