Late Work Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Late work

Feel shame to see a wife
Or daughter or mother
Go to work and return
From job, very late.

But she walks in front
I follow her, behind…
Aiming for the same door.

Her left arm and elbow
Make a hook, right angle!

Her black bag dingles from
Same hook and triangle.

Her right hand in glove
Is pampered to survive
in freezing weather.

She is a nothing but
Silhouette or large dot
In the dark side of life.

After working day long
Took a ride on the bus
To get off in distance;
Then walk…walk…

She had key, I did not;
In the lift, we had talk
She told me of her job.

Misery makes slaves
To work, day after day
For a so-called master;
The masters together
Make only one percent
They hold rein to gallop,
Taking world to the hell.

We must get rid of them!