Thursday, June 22, 2017

Kristen de Kline #108 ten cents in my pocket

ten cents in my pocket (thanks to Kerri S)

ten cents in my pocket
two bucks in the bank
plastic bags of salt expired cans of beans black and gold penne pasta
a shower head held up with duct tape
knob-less kitchen cupboards you open with a knitting needle
a wall oven that last operated in the 80s    

collection points:
the pavement offers up 'decent sized' butts
the Woollies skip renders outer leaves of lettuces
at the Emergency Ward everybody waits and     yawns
you read about the Queen
down short blacks
bite the legs off gingerbread men

skinning then deep-frying a pet chook     deceased, of course
don't look so horrified    it had already carked it
didn't taste that good    but

ten cents in my pocket
two  bucks in the bank
I told you things could be cursed    or
blessed     five barley loaves
two small fish     multitudes to feed
do I look like bloody


  1. Dear Kristen. This
    poem. How many
    times have I
    been there? Laugh?
    I almost died.

    1. Yes Rob - there are always those moments when we don't know whether to laugh or cry/die.
      Are we cursed or blessed?


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