Dust

Using the notion of fractals
I see my home is infinitely large
That’s why  a woman’s work is never done
But why does gender come into it?
And why is it not valued?
Theories are all very well
But the sheets still need washing
And the baby still cries
As if she can see her future
An infinite amount of dust
Waiting to taunt her
Boiling hankies and washing up
Try to imagine  if most MPs were women
And men washed their clothes for them
And remembered to buy bread
How would men feel?
They   like groping but feeling is not the same
Whatever their game