The Cult of Domesticity

The Cult of Domesticity

by Cam M. Roberts
dead tree chinqua penn trail

A dead tree under the November overcast.
© Cam M. Roberts, 2013.

the night
pray tell me
you will stand
still in reverence
near the clean canvas
off its easel we overturned.

Almost lifeless, mostly dead:
Exhausted by everything
while vulnerable to nothing.

Laid out flat upon the floor:
A common doormat,
so simple that it lacks
such libelous words as
Welcome [what Novelty!
what Luxury!] by the threshold –
Mere generic decorum.

It will all soon be gone.
So says I – The Fallen Idolater.
A wild and witless trifle.

One would be better off to burn some incense
wherefore you begin to scatter rose petals
upon a stifling pile of shit.

An anomaly in exile
either stranded on a porch
or lonely upon the vast linoleum –
A clandestine island banished from the archipelago.

We can’t afford such words
without a home to desecrate.

I’ve never been in tandem
with their sacred emblems –
I am my own Totem.


© CMR, 2013

About Cam M. Roberts

Actor, Writer & Poet. WFU '12. NCSSM '08.
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3 Responses to The Cult of Domesticity

  1. Chatty Owl says:

    The reality of what the world is hiding under the pretentious cloak of fake beauty. Sometimes it stinks so much, you cant hide it even with coco channel.

  2. yasniger says:

    Reblogged this on yasniger and commented:
    Lovely poem to start the year with….

  3. Blessings & Grace to you.
    Pastor Bryan J. Kizer
    Christlike Ministries NWA
    “My love be with you all in Christ Jesus.” (1 Cor 16:24)

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