by Cheryl Merrick
Rallying to cries of,
“This is how it should be done!
It will take less work.
It will be cheaper.
It will be tougher.
It will look better.
I must do good work.
and
I just want it!”
He charges ahead to complete
HIS PROJECT!
Informing me of the “needs”
of the counter, stairs, or room,
and desiring to have things
DONE PROPERLY
he attempts to assure me that
though this material makes me ill
it is “sealed”
that he has “tested” it
or that it is or will “air out”
and not bother me.
Trying to remind myself
that he really does love me,
I wonder what happened
to my simple plea
to have a save place
where I could live
without smashing headaches, nausea, and fatigue.
Unwilling to return to a mere existence
as a suffering, incoherent blob,
too ill to care for myself,
I determinately seek to maintain
My Quiet Haven.
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