‘a room of one’s own’
a corner for yourself
deep in the crevices of 
the house you made home-
therein lies a contradiction 
fattened by your services-
mondays are towel days
and thursdays for fresh linen
time enough for pressing shirts
knead your way into the flour
bake till brown 
don’t forget to make the lists

                                      endless needs

feeding on your services-

other people do the same    
                                 

too

‘why can’t you be happy” 
with my lot?’
with your lists and the sunshine’

in a corner of your house
there is a slice of life
a residual shadow 
of who you are
and tiny tea cups from childhood
friends huddled together 
giggling beyond words 
pausing only to giggle more

‘how do you feel right now’
cliches from a stranger 
sitting squarely across the room
listening to your voice 
when you open your mouth
several people pour out
none you know
all you own
one hour         
tick                 
tock
clock your hours    

and 
systematically corrode 
the day

the sun sets in the corner 
of your eyes
tired from being open
burning with rage
for the lost time
losses of another time

‘a room of ones own’
a corner for yourself
Virginia struggling 
Plath recoiling 
hiding in your crevice
in the corner of your house you made home

…

Dee is from Lahore, Pakistan. Loves dark nights and old trees.