Those 4 days

I come home and see
A bottle of water set out for me
To live on for the entire day

Even a cow
Gets an entire bucket full

The cow is better off than me
In so many other ways

For one,
Her shit gets to walk the kitchen
That my blood is exiled from

For another,
Her touch sanctifies
While mine
quote-unquote
defiles.

I squirm in my own house
Trying to touch as few things as possible.
While she roams free.
If I could be deflated like a balloon,
And made to occupy even less space
I would have been,
Long ago

And finally,
She even has a place among the gods
Where my blood rightfully belongs
(Yes i've heard the logic.
She is as nurturing as a mother.
I wonder who was the first person to forget
That she is only "like" a mother
While my blood is the real life giver)