A Recipe to Warm Her Cockles
two pots on the stove every night
one for the children and I,
shared and warm
one for him
separate
set down without a word
she never called it anything
she didn’t have to
she couldn’t leave
too many small mouths
no money, no door
so she learned
how to divide a life
same kitchen, same hands
two pots
one of them was hers
the other was all his
warm your cockles
and serve him wee stew
Lol I think I know.
What is being shown here is not simply domestic inequality, but the quiet partitioning of a single space into parallel realities that never intersect.