The Young Housewife


At ten AM the young housewife
Moves about in negligee behind
The wooden walls of her husband’s house.
I pass solitary in my car.

Then again she comes to the curb
To call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands
Shy, uncorseted, tucking in
Stray ends of hair, and I compare her
To a fallen leaf.

The noiseless wheels of my car
Rush with a crackling sound over
Dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling.


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The Young Housewife