Suzie (Eng. )

   

Four  husbands  and  six  children—and  alone.
“Don’t  leave  this  one”  (I  begged  her)  —  “I’ll    OD*”.
She  owes    a  hundred  thousand  dollars  loan
To  be  the  one  she’s  never  gonna  be.

Her  thoughts  are  jumpy,  I  can  never  tell
What’s  true  and  what  is  due  to  “episode”**.
She  needs  a  new  prescription  but  —oh  well  —
Her  disability***  does  not  permit  a  lot.

She  is  surviving  —and  she  has  her  pride,
She’s  hungry,  but  she  wouldn’t  eat  the  carbs.
Two  of  her  husbands  died  of  suicide,
The  last  one  calls  —she  cannot  stand  his  guts.

She’d  like  to  see  her  children,  but  they  won’t
Pick  up  the  phone  or  send  her  single  word,
They  all  have  jobs,  but  somehow  cannot  bond  —
Their  love  affairs  are  hopelessly  absurd.

She  had  a  short  and  passionate  affair
(she  still  is  flirty,  fifty  eight  and  cute)
And    hoped  —at  last  he  was  the  one  for  her,
They’d    both  divorce  their  spouses  (hers  —"a  brute”).

She  washed  his  clothes  (thanks  to  the  machine),
No  cooking  —if  her  life  depends  on  this,
She’s  all  chaotic  and  she  cannot  clean,
But  it  was  make  or  break  —  she  tried  to  please.

He  started  to  neglect  her  —and  she  knew
It  was  the  time  to  ask  him  face  to  face
About  his  plans,  he  suddenly  withdrew
Into  the  silent  and  uneasy  place.

She’s  in  depression  now  and  not  as  trim,
As  she  was  only  couple  weeks  ago.
He  shed  some  tears  while  she  was  leaving  him
But  what  it  matters  if  he  let  her  go?

She’s  tired  and  is  struggling  every  day,
She    rents  a  room  and  all  her  cats  are  gone.
Her  landlord  is  a  pain  about  the  pay,
Their  house  is  ruled  by  his  preschooler  son.

He  is  just  five  but  he  controls  the  roost,
His  mother,  sisters  serve  the  men  in  house,  
This  is  a  Muslim  family,  to  boot
And  husband  wants  to  take  a  second  spouse.

Sometimes  they  quarrel  —Suzie  cannot  sleep,
And  early  in  the  morning  hell  is  raised:
Boy  runs  through  house  in  one  tornado  sweep  —
She’ll  grin  and  bear  it  with  pretended  grace.

She  looks  for  work,  but  hasn’t  found  so  far,
Food  banks  supply    with  cans  of  beans  to  bake,
Front  bumper  of  her  yellow  little  car
Is  kept  in  place  by  black  electric  tape.

I  store  her  things  to  help  her  save  on  fees,
But  I  cannot  provide  her  daily  bread,
How  tired  and  how  cold  she  has  to  be,
Exhausted  and  bewildered,  lost  and  mad.

She  needs  a  friendly  care  and  safety  zone
To  ease  her  self-inflicted  constant  pain.
She  left  today  a  message  on  my  phone  —
I  know  she  is  in  trouble  yet  again.

They  teach  them:  move  ahead  and  thrash  about,
Be  a  success  and  all  around  good  sport.
How  many  will  destruct  themselves  without
Involuntary  kindness  of  the  sort?


*to  OD  —to    overdose
**Manic-depressive  "episode"
***Disability  medical  insurance  

³êòîð³ÿ  Òîðîí



àäðåñà: https://www.poetryclub.com.ua/getpoem.php?id=543676
Ðóáðèêà: Ïîðòðåòíà ïîåç³ÿ
äàòà íàäõîäæåííÿ 14.12.2014
àâòîð: Â³êòîð³ÿ Ò.