I
apologise,
it’s second
nature.
Even on the
footpath
passing a
threesome
smiling and
talking
girl talk
or into phones
a bump from them
will
have me
voicing the
words
‘I’m sorry.’
Mid-century
girl-child
inching
towards catastrophe
I was bred
to it,
a breech to
my mother:
‘I’m sorry.’
And here’s
the peculiar bit,
I say it to
everything,
a toaster,
a chair,
inanimate things
that
neither hear nor care,
and yet it
slips out
not even
reluctantly:
‘I’m sorry.’
But what if
I’m right,
if the
world of things
and the
atoms that compose
them are
the same as those
swirling inside me,
comprising the whole
of the
universe?
One single
cosmos
and
everywhere in it
something
to regret.
This poem is perfect, Sara. Just perfect.
ReplyDeleteWow, Magdalena. Thank you.
DeleteSure is. Especially love the last verse and line.
ReplyDeleteDear me, Lizz. Lovely to hear from you. Praise indeed.
ReplyDelete'Sara, stop apologizing, it's a great poem.'
ReplyDelete'I'm sorry.'
:)
I'm sorry, Robbie, I'm trying.
ReplyDeletesorry has a lot to be said for it
ReplyDeleteand the world would be happier were it said more often