Secret Life – a poem


Her dishwater hands give her boredom away 

She’s always at work and never at play

Her life is a schedule, a doubtful routine

With washing and ironing and keeping things clean
The husband’s at work and the kids are at school

She’s done all her chores and feels like a fool

When she lifts the receiver and answers the call

To a lonely old man who wants to feel small
“Madame Dominatrix” is her pseudonym

She earns extra cash, acting harsh, on a whim

All her frustrations laid bare to a stranger

Whilst sat in her rollers, avoiding the danger 
She doesn’t feel part of the sex industry

When she shouts and commands to her clients, for a fee

To her it’s ‘pin money’ for a life that is better

So she groans and she yells whilst the callers get wetter
Whilst her family’s oblivious to their Mum’s secret life

They enjoy all the treats and avoid any strife

Life’s always so calm and she’s in control

Her life is in boxes, as she plays out her roles
Ange Chan ©2015


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