House of the Tomato

If a woman wants to be a poet, she must dwell in the house of the tomato. -- Erica Jong

Regional website for the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets, in partnership with the Reader's Loft.

GREEN BAY / NORTHEAST

Celebrating, sharing and inspiring poetry throughout Wisconsin.

Impasse

Impasse

 

My heart pounds

like banging on the door, while

he nails self-righteous babble

to the threshold.

I cry out for respect acceptance, dignity --

Yet he hammers a steady beat of bible thumping,

on his cross of sin, sex and “hell” forever.

And “Forever” -- he says – “is a long, long time”.

His words deny, damn, diminish

the very existence of our child; born perfectly,

swaddled with gifts and talents for this world.

He denies her simply for

who    she      is.

My flesh rejoices for all

who stand in the doorway

looking out, knowing who they are,

filled with possibility.

My flesh rages at what he calls

christian love, tongue clicking in

disgust toward another’s bravery and truth.

“Is she welcome in your home?” I ask

“Not under my roof, in sin” He expounds.

We argue whether it is a choice --

I ask what if it was his child

knocking at the door,

what would he do?

To which there is

silence.   Open ended,

hanging-in-the-air,

door closed,

silence.

 

© 2017 House of the Tomato