Poetry Feature: BETTY CROCKER HAS LEFT THE KITCHEN by Jane Costain

She’s had it! Enough! She is done
with all that mixing, stirring,
measuring, those dirty pans

to scrub! Away with the apron,
the glued-on smile!
Leave all those books for others
who know no better.

She takes her meals now
in style at restaurants.
A bottle of fine wine 
served in a crystal goblet.
No more sipping the cooking sherry.

In her little black dress with its
slightly scandalous neckline,
her fingers bejeweled (no need
anymore to knead the dough),
her hair now blond, cascading
(no net) about her deliciously
made-up face, she clicks around 
in dangerously high heels.

In fact, she is no longer “Betty”
but “Liz”—and for her,
the words “house” and “wife”
can never be spoken as one.

 

Jane Costain is the author of the chapbook Small Windows (Main Street Rag, 2018) and has privately published A Dozen Centos. Her work has appeared in various literary journals, including Plainsongs, The MacGuffin, Pinyon Review, and Iris Literary Journal. She has a master’s degree in the creative arts in learning from Lesley College and has taught in public schools for over thirty years. She lives with her husband, Gary Moore, in Denver.

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