August 16, 2007


I try hard,
and toss the pancakes
I have made
Hoping, with each passing day
that I will make
a good housewife.

The sweat on my forehead
runs down my nose
I rub it off
with sticky palms,
spilled oil stinging
my naive hands.

My very being is smitten
by the much vaunted
flowered lives of the women
who say with unbridled pride
that all said and done,
Marriage is a bliss.