when a high-heeled shoe pounded
out the last of my illusions.
I believed I would be the one
to break the love barriers
by whining and bickering children,
nor made worse by disappointment at work.
Dream mothers, beatific smiles,
briefcase in one hand, cupcakes in the other.
co-workers excluded me from meetings there.
No self-involved ex husbands gave no help at all.
cranky little girls up a staircase,
slamming the steps after them, my shoe a hammer.
wrinkled little brows, their wide, worried eyes.