You see a home where there is no bread but ‘lots of wine.
Invisible wives connected to disincarnated entities of kitchen appliances.
Every wife, wherever she may be, comes here after death. They are all a nucleus of radiating submissiveness, vibrating hues that are Clorox-bleach white or freshly squeezed, and sugary lemonade yellow.
This is one of three realms that Earth science cannot yet understand, a shadowy zone for those who have been forgotten in the homes of men who’ve exploited, stood over, and hated.
These are the women who the world turned a deaf ear to. How their marital duties became chains they so horribly dragged behind them.
These are the women who knew reticence, knowing what can be said and what can’t,
fearing the word ‘respect’ and accompanied unkept feelings with ‘upkept’ homes.
Here cleans the forgetful women who long to begin again,
making nice of their homely imprisonment.
Felineisms 