Hospitality Poem

Hospitality
by
Marialexa Kavanaugh

She greets you at the door with a grin embellishing her moon-stained face,
She greets you like a squire sent from God to do gilded deeds,
You smile back despite your masqueraded, foggy concept of religion.
You give her flowers to compliment her maternal feminism,

A mother always has a few chunks of love to bestow upon the hollow-hearted,
For mothers practice the baffling wizardly of unconditional care,
The good ones at least.
The raging tyrants with minds mutated from the merciless hands of insanity,
Will smile but lie and hug but limply.

Deception is a sin that makes you grimy and contaminated inside.
Like the vitality-drained air inside an asylum,
Or the rickety and unhinged shimmy of the asylum inhabitant’s voice,
The same one that pulsates inside the brain of every young abandoned lover.

Are we all raging mad?
Stability and the plastered cement of normality is the religion for hospitable
Women,
The alluring ruse of domesticity,
The saint of the kitchen and the goddess of the household.

We live we die,
And in the crevice between those two inevitable realities
We all end up deranged at some points and find ourselves lost,
An island in the turbulence of love, hate and everything that spices them up.