In service

Life is all too housebound – all accidie.
The pestle grinds against my irritation,
This underservant hogs the conversation
And I sense that cat is hiding something from me.

I know, too, that I’ve let it come to this.
Flinging off the cap and the needy apron,
I should just quit – such thoughts are not uncommon.
He couldn’t stop me. Not even with a raise.

That cat is hiding something. This I know.
Perhaps she’s found the rumoured passageway.
Perhaps, abandoning my duteous tray,
I could tail her one day, along said narrow

Corridor and out to taste the carefree air.
I must find that cat. It could be anywhere.