Fading eyelashes

In his heart of hearts,
the husband knew she would always fear
the home,
would always fear
retiring from the desk in charge,
would always be
the nun who would excommunicate
all popes and priests,
-the heretical demons!-

who would grow up to gush
at her friends who married
blond, clear looking foreigners
-while she is stuck in her
cold too cold hot too hot
rainy too rainy country

He forgot to tell
his secretary
to not answer his
home phone

but at least he
lost himself in another city
in another job
other children
another time

unshackled of everything
unclouded of everything

perhaps he is lounging
in the mountains
with his new children
unpestered
to go and get some
fresh air

while my left eye
is fogging
like the eyes
of my old aunts
the rotten grandparents
or the memory
of a woman
who desperately
wants to build

a sentence in English

a life
not her own
to her whim and fancy