Summer Motherhood

Buggy afternoon
With the kids carrying on
Water in the pool
And the only worthwhile occupation
Keeper to a ceaselessly buzzing,
Dirty House.
Toy strewn, dish strewn,
Fly strewn, me strewn.
I’m in the janitorial phase.
A hole in the head job,
A brain-numbed workhorse
Surrounded by the flies,
And the claptrap clutter.
Give me a quiet office job
In an air-conditioned building
Working with adults.
Even a missile silo would do
At this point.