Boiling Point Poem by santhana louis

BOILING POINT


My beloved husband comes late in night
Knocks the door with a fouling scent
If delayed by a few more seconds
Would slap me on my face at once

He sits till nine in his office seat
In a jungle of papers all around
Not of devotion nor of fun
For men of action - bribe satisfaction

Lot of money he showers on us
A posh house, BMW, a host of vague comforts
With all the gates and windows always closed
We remain as puppets, because he suspects

Just at twenty, my father had a faulty dream
That men of high post were of worthy deals
Married for twelve years could be a real proud thing
Had I not married this scandalous swine

He carries in him all manly vices
We never dare to correct him either
In fear of his wrath and shredding tortures
We feel safe, when the beast is out to prey

In early thirties, I am still young and pretty
He sits and drinks with the girls of dirty
Shelved as ‘unused', I am rusting and thirsty
Ready to cross over the fence one day in frenzy

My face is a pager, the message I beam is bolder
For the boldest of you, I have a best barter
Give me love, kindness, affection and tender care
The frozen treasures in store are for you and YOU ALONE.


Louis Santhana