Rainy Day Woman (Poetry)

I used to think I was a mother
I believed I was a wife
I was captured in possession
of a very muddled life

They asked me — was I happy?
Did I have some cash to spare?
Could I sleep without the light on?
Did a demon haunt the stair?

They took away my freedom
gave me buttons for my pay
and tied me to a railing
so I couldn’t run away

Now I think I’ll be a poet
there is so much to explain
since I’m past the age of reason
and the years are full of rain

PART TWO

I’ve saved a month of Sundays
they’re rarer that you’d think
no one sees them coming
then they’re over in a blink

No one’s working in God’s office
all the angels gone on strike
with Saint Peter playing postman
on his father’s mountain bike

I’ve a nestful of new verses
bent on learning how to fly
vultures waiting on the bookcase
lousy critics standing by

Guns are blazing in the newsreels
tempests raging everywhere
it’s no time to be a woman
changing weather wrecks my hair