Saturday, July 30, 2016

#198 Kevin Brophy 'Three-Star Places'

#198 ‘Three-star places’

We’re staying inside today.
The birds are wondering where we are.
The sun still slides across the roof
though more cautiously than usual.
The breeze is up, checking on us,
flicking through our washing on the line,
our car can barely contain itself
on its springs and rubber by the door.
The children seem to have forgotten us
over at the school now, playing
as though we’re a disappeared dream.
I go across the road to talk to Tony
about bad backs we’ve had, and still have,
to be sure I’m here and part of everything.

Later when the phone rings it doesn’t seem to be
for us.
Someone offers a holiday for almost nothing
because people no longer go on holidays
to certain three-star places. We’re ok here
I say and slowly lower the phone to its cradle
afraid it might ring at us again.
The late sun holds on for a last puzzled glimpse
of us at the kitchen window with our laptops up
trying to catch the neighbour’s wi-fi signal
on its way through us.

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