The Working Woman part one and two are a poetic play on words and meanings that carry two storylines with two interpretations each individually. Throughout each separate piece, there is yet synergy as a whole in its theme. I could go into depth explaining the cultural relationship between the themes and meanings for both parts but half the fun is discovering all the intricacies yourself.

Part one:

The Quagmire Chef

I once cooked with a man

who was a barney bloke.

In a fix, rhubarb jam

was his master stroke.

In his hashery, this chap

made quite a brannigan starter

with leftovers and a scrap

he stirred up in hot water.

He would wrangle a beef

and broil it in a brabble

to cook up a soup of grief

with sides of pribble and prabble.

He could pickle a sol, (sole and soul pronunciation with a line above the O, I don’t know how to type it.)

stir up a pot of ruckus

with deep water in a hole

and a box of fracas.

With a recipe to mix it up

In his trattoria of tiff,

he contrived to fix us up

in his cook shop of miff.

He was a quagmire chef.

He thought I, his next chef d’oevre,

But his embroilment I left

with a clean plate and none left over.

Part two:

The Box Factory

I once was apprenticed to a prizefighter.

My life, demarcate, in a finite blur.

By a box of terms, I was obliged to serve

inside a box, behind the curve,

in a corner marked by anger, a term of discord

in a match of no match and no record to record.

My contender was a boxer, containment, his art.

With the ring, I was boxed in by my counterpart.

Attack was his defense, fisticuffs his sport.

To strike out at this contract binding

could not weaken the agreement’s finding.

Nor could it lessen the quantity

or length of time to disagree.

In an embroilment of pugilism

bound by walls of altruism,

I was sequestered to remain

with no prize fighting prize to gain.

With no desire for clenched fists

to box or cuff, but to desist.

To open the box takes an open hand

an open mind and a brave heart to stand

on two feet and walk out

before the final blow and life’s knockout.