Dirty Weekend

 

Chipped china cup half washed up

Rests in her hands

Forty a day smoker stains

Tepid tea sloshes down the drain

Sodden biscuit crumb remains

Glistening like fools’ gold

She never dreamt she’d be this old

And to have to start again

Without her man

Wedding vows aren’t worth a damn

I do’s give way to the big I am

Voices raised, front doors slammed

And the cruelty of a husband and a friend

Leaves her the victim of a dirty weekend

 

School run planned, lies on demand

It’s now all in her hands

A lead weight around a necessary task

She’ll tut-tut, act dismissive

To childish questions asked

Blow the neighbours kisses

Unpack the weekly shopping

And pray that her mask doesn’t slip

Rumour gives way to gossip

She knows supermarket shelves are stacked

With sordid stories of divorces

And marriages ransacked

So she’ll smile and continue to pretend

There’s no such thing as a dirty weekend

 

She’s alone, she understands

The blood is on his hands

The rest of him "another woman’s stink"

It’s bedtime, loves

She swallows pills, she has a drink

It’s over in the time it takes to blink

And further falsehoods will prevail

Concealing weakness and betrayal

And all will be observed by younger eyes

They’ll come to learn the truth, they’ll despise

When there’s no answer to the simple question Why?

That isn’t stupid, spineless, feeble, sick and blithe

And no amount of back-pedalling will mend

The consequences of a dirty weekend