A Woman's Many Masters

He comes home wearing another woman's perfume

And bloodies her nose

For looking at another man on the t.v.

After all, she's only worth half of him.

His Bible tells him so.

He is a godly man,

So he forgives her

And prays for her sluttish soul.

Apologetically,

He is silent as she cooks,

But then the clumsy bitch

Had to go and burn the chicken,

Which only forced him

To slap her around some more.

Spare the rod, spoil the wife.

That's what he says

Or said

Until he left her.

She remarried.

Now he (the second He in her life, mind you)

Lets her work.

He allows this as a concession,

But not quite a right.

He doesn't beat her though.

He is gracious.

She may work,

As long as she doesn't shirk her womanly duties

Of coarse.

She works to alleviate the economic pressure

On Him.

She then comes home

To work her double shift

In the kitchen

And the laundry room

And the bedroom,

While he sits and eats the food

That she toiled over

In the kitchen

And he smells so fresh and clean,

Wearing the clothes

That she washed

In the laundry room

And he complains

In the bedroom

That she just doesn't smell as sweet

As she used to.

The next day

She buys a new perfume,

An imitation of Chanel.

But he didn't notice.

He just came home

Smelling of another woman's perfume.

Chanel No. 5

And the real thing too,

Not a cheap imitation like hers.

He must of bought it.

She found the receipt.

But she couldn't say a thing.

After all, it must be her fault.

Right?

Her mother always told her

That a good wife

Submits to her husband's authority

And she wants to be a good wife.

She has to try harder.

She guessed.

Apologetically,

She kept her silence.

Until her left her

For a younger,

Fresher woman

And she didn't understand

Why.

Women have many masters,

Including

Themselves.