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.