Separation Anxiety


“Separation Anxiety”

I don’t like to sort silverware.

period.

there you have it – my domestic torture chore

maybe it’s because the classification

doesn’t match my moods or sequence

We separate into categories

lesbians, doctors, Asians

the homeless, the humble, the humane

categories of separation:

of color

of race

of sexual preference

of tax bracket brooch

it really doesn’t matter to me

I accept all

but perhaps not as much as I’d like to think

do the knives always belong with the knives

does the silver spoon

always have to fit tight with its brother

or the fork with its corky spikes

the other utensils get tossed in with the rest

yet, we always, separate the knives from the forks

as if, the garlic press can tolerate the ladle!

perhaps an analogy for our domestic tolerance

I break down periodically

segregating the forks, spoons, and knives

into their happy little collated coves

usually thinking they belong that way

yet, I never have liked it

and, probably never will

m.e.m.o. muse

Copyright 2009

Advertisements

Let me know you were here - share your muse

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s