Ode to the 1950s Housewife

I see the tiny beads of sweat
upon your furrowed brow,
the plates set out to feed the kids,
their demands for breakfast now!

Your body is a miracle,
posture straight with grace and charm;
I don’t know how you do it,
keep those shapely legs and arms.

I guess the push of mop and broom
must make your muscles strong
or perhaps the expectation
that you must always carry songs.

The surfaces are gleaming,
the clothes have not a single crease;
the carpets have been vacuumed
though your workload will not cease.

For now’s the time to prep the meal
and make sure nothing burns.
Don’t disappoint your husband;
you must respect the check he earns.

Before his key turns in the lock,
put that lipsticked smile in place,
for after all the work he’s done,
you are his happy, welcome face.

After dinner, bathe the kids
while he relaxes in the den.
Perhaps before you go to bed
you can sip a glass of gin.

Make sure your gown is fresh and pressed
and you smell of sweet perfume.
Take one minute for yourself—
No! He’s coming in the room.

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Arvilla Fee lives in Dayton, Ohio, with her husband, three of her six children, and two dogs. She teaches at Clark State College, is the lead poetry editor for October Hill Magazine, and has been published in over 150 magazines, including Tipton Poetry Journal, The Orchards Poetry Journal, and Drifting Sands Haibun. Her three poetry books, The Human Side, This is Life, and Mosaic: A Million Little Pieces, are available on Amazon. Arvilla’s life advice: Never travel without snacks.