CHANGING
I’m the bitch in the house,
Say my son, daughter and spouse.
My grumpy mornings and snappy days
Leave no room for defence.
I don’t choose to wake up
On the wrong side of my edgy bed.
Or determine the pace of my rabid strides.
Don’t hold me culpable for my hissing room,
Or the rancid smells permeating my hearth.
Don’t condemn me for my hot breath
Or deride me for my defiant gait.
Truly, I was never a candidate for mutinies.
I didn’t prod the canine in me
Or enroll to learn to snarl.
It was you…
The seasons changed, the tides turned.
I have stopped taking the garbage out,
I have stopped cooking five-course meals,
I have given up waving white flags.
I refuse to perform on demand.
As I hum a tremulous tune,
My nonchalance a façade,
I sip my wicked coffee
With a deliberate air of calm,
And notice with a shudder
That I don’t apologise or grovel anymore;
But, it doesn’t hurt me any less when I bite.
- Archana Pai Kulkarni
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