A poem from my youth

Sink

 In the sink,

Among dirty cups and plates,

The hatred of daily monotony

Raises its head

From the prongs of a fork.

Curling itself

In a stainless-steel spoon,

It speaks:

Women belong in the world,

In the universe,

Not in a cold, tiled kitchen.

Free yourself

From the vacuum-cleaner vacuum,

Dust away the duster

And sweep away the broom cupboard world.

Closing the door,

Confidence smiles,

Kicks a man who beats his wife,

Tenderly takes her hand

And whispers:

Love.