Poem of the month December 2013: a nod to New Men

The Da
 
Dinner was cooked by my (fair) hand
then dishes, cutlery, pots, other various bits’n’bobs, left
youthfully expressed as
‘if you end up leaving them, we’ll do them when we get back.”
 
Almost gratefully
my hands are immersed in suds
Da
cook, washer-upper, New Man
the father of daughters, unleashed
equal.

 

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