Fettered Forever

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Hubby complains, please do not make
a sound when people pass by, you do
not sound right; I sigh, I have finished
my books, read all I brought

Only hubby’s magazines - which do not
interest me - are left, I must remain re-
served, focus on something else, not
give my stupid rendition of small talk

Not refer to books and other subjects, I
must listen to what the others say and
nod my head – all I hope is that soon
I can go to bed, I accept his censure

Having grown up with ridiculous people,
I must be terribly ridiculous myself, if you
saw the film called “Stella Dallas” – look
it up on the Internet – you will know

How embarrassing lack of context can
be, when hubby points out to me all I
say is inappropriate, I have to accept
my past is asserting itself

I am not yet ready to meet other people, I
still turn into a hunchback, the little alien
in my head still cannot assume dignity –
I need a burka – at least

My sunglasses and wide-rimmed sun-
hat protects like a burka – luckily, I
believe consciousness goes on after
death, in another dimension

In another universe where I might be
able to shed my ridiculous aspect, I am
scared of being me, emulating my
pretentious, clownish relations

Hubby’s constant criticism is the only
thing that stands between me and total
perdition, I see his rebukes as my
salvation, hoping I shall

Bleed to death, to start anew where the
taint of snobbish pretention and ridicule
will not keep me fettered forever, until
then I accept being a second-class

Citizen...
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