Domestic chores tire me.
At times I am disheveled.
Throw the towel in exasperation.
When will I be free?
I am inconsolable.
I turn indignant. Show
my anger on doors, vessels.
Bang the doors. Slam the pots,
push the ladles.
It is confusion. The vegetable stew
burns, the potato fry is charred,
the milk boils. To lay them straight
I dash and miss my step.
I skid. Balance with an effort.
Meanwhile, the lunch remains
scorched. Have to cook again.
Anger diffuses. I am downcast.
Frustration suffocates.
Meenas Poems 