Feminist Terrorist in the Making

Got an invitation through the post

to a charity dinner and dance

at the village hall.

Wonder why I called the host.

Talked to her on the phone

trying to get out of it

saying thanks, but

I couldn’t face going on my own.

Anyway, I hadn’t got a frock

to wear to such a do.

Declined an offer of a dance with her husband

as I’d one too many of those too.

She gave me details of a baby sitter

when I tried to use my kids as another excuse.

Then, she said I could always help out in the kitchen

anything but feel left out and refuse.

It got rapidly worse, and I nearly agreed to go

then she cited another singleton

with whom I could spend the evening.

It was then I felt this poem about to come.

I’ve tried and tried to write this poem

but the words just will not sing and rhyme.

But, for some unknown reason

the title was readily available first this time.