“It always rains when you take out the rubbish!”
Maybe so, but I never do take it out.
I consume, I fill the bins,
And she takes them out.
While she wheels out the bins,
Heaves the bags and the boxes over the wall,
I watch from inside, suddenly reminded of her mother,
The image of her before me.
The little untried girl dissolves in the rain,
And I face a woman challenging the world
By taking out the rubbish.
© jsmorgane (2005)