"It's a Women's World" Eavan Boland

Our way of life         has hardly changed         since a wheel first         whetted a knife.  (5)   Well, maybe flame         burns more greedily         and wheels are steadier         but we're the same         who milestone (10) our lives         with oversights—         living by the lights         of the loaf left         by the cash register, (15)  the washing powder         paid for and wrapped,         the wash left wet.         Like most historic peoples         we are defined (20)  by what we forget,         by what we never will be:         star-gazers,         fire-eaters.         It's our alibi (25)  for all time         that as far as history goes         we were never         on the scene of the crime.         So when the king's head (30) gored its basket—         grim harvest—         we were gristing bread         or getting the recipe         for a good soup (35) to appetize         our gossip.

And it's still the same:         By night our windows         moth our children (40)  to the flame         of hearth not history.         And still no page         scores the low music         of our outrage. (45) But appearances         still reassure:         That woman there,         craned to the starry mystery         is merely getting a breath (50) of evening air,         while this one here—         her mouth         a burning plume—         she's no fire-eater, (55) just my frosty neighbor         coming home.