Portrait Of A Loving Woman As A Homemaker
– after reading Nome Patrick
The first time I saw my father distraught, he had just lost his jobLike a kid who lost their teeth, it willed an ache in his being
My mother welcomed him into her arms & thanked God it wasn’t his breath
It’s not the end, my dear. God knows what is best
Those were the words she fabricated to envelop him
My mother became a self-appointed preacher at home,
When a door closes, another opens. Everything is in God’s hands
Inflamed with ardent hope, father moved with the wind,
pommeling on every company’s door in the city,
but they never unclutched to entertain the underside of his feet
Months rolled by & we were compelled to ration his savings
When no job loomed over my father, mother relinquished her retail shop to him
so he wouldn’t submerge in the alluring arms & mushiness of the living room sofa
I think that was the first time I witnessed my father’s eyes glisten
It was like his brown eyes bore two suns the sky couldn’t sustain
The house saw my mother inordinately abundant to write a book on her new life
If it did, it would be titled: portrait of a loving woman as a homemaker,
as that was what she became so father’s shadow could remain inert at night.
Praise Osawaru is a writer and poet of Bini descent. He’s a Best of the Net nominee with works appearing/forthcoming in Blue Marble Review, Electric Moon Mag, FERAL, Ghost Heart Lit, Glass Poetry, Kalahari Review, Serotonin, Sub-Saharan Magazine, and elsewhere. He was longlisted for Babishai 2020 Haiku Award and shortlisted for the Nigerian Students Poetry Prize 2020. A Virgo and lover of all things strange and speculative, you can find him on Instagram/Twitter: @wordsmithpraise.
Banner: Nightscape, a digital image by Robert Frede Kenter.
IceFloe Press 