Poems / August 27, 2024

Stay-at-Home

Matthew Buckley Smith

Something is always broken in the house—
The dryer vent, the smoke alarm, the range,
A glue trap with a not-quite-murdered mouse,
The coffee pot, a bulb that needs a change.
I right some wrongs, and others I put off.
I clean, I exercise, I take a nap.
The kids need picking up. One has a cough,
The other watches TV in my lap.
We’re out of pita bread, we’re out of soap.
I might walk to the market, I might not.
Bedtime grows later. There is always hope
For sex if we’re not tired. We’re tired a lot.
My wife works hard. I do the best I can.
No one who looks at me can see a man.

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Matthew Buckley Smith

Matthew Buckley Smith

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