A Place of Her Own
by Mary Sullivan

She rather needed a place to call her own,
         but the dingy apartment was just too small,
         and anyway, Tommy's cries of the injustice
         of an afternoon nap disrupted her peace.

So she grabbed her almost empty pack of cigarettes
         and two bottles of Bud, then without so much
         as a backward glance, she left her tiny apartment
         and headed down the stairs.

She didn't go far - didn't need to.
         Just to the bottom of the stairs, where
         she could still hear Tommy and keep
         an eye on the door.

The cigarettes and beer went quickly,
         (and damn these old steps with their peeling paint!)
         But the yard was pretty, with wildflowers and roses
         riding along the back fence.

The sun felt good against her face, turning her fair cheeks
         a rosy pink, (and gosh, what a nice day to be outside!)
         Suddenly the phone rings, waking Tommy, of course.
         (Damn that phone!)

It's just as well- dinner is long overdue,
         the clothes are finally dry,
         the litter box needs cleaning,
         Tommy is crying.

But the next time the laundry and dishes are piled as high as the bills,
         and Tommy wont "be a good boy for Mum, please,"
         and all those other things that Mother
         always warned about -

She'll steal away to bottom of the back steps -
         to that pretty little place
         that is all
         her own.

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