Fiddle
Sunday night 6.43 there was nobody
on chat it was a dusty street with all the blinds
pulled down I thought hello
they’ve all gone back to normal things
sweeping paths defleaing pets acquiring bad
drug habits tidying the garter drawer
dissembling the mozzie nets that hang in winter like
nightmares stuck in a revolving door and frighten
little ones into parental beds I could hear the
chop chop chop of blades felt the ping of loss
for the ready dissolution of the seconds
standing between me and next me next me
next time I fear might not be I don’t want
to
rub off all these imagined places
for the narration it will
bring
Oh that fourth couplet - I'd kill for that - well you know what I mean!
ReplyDeletea fiddle in the sticks
ReplyDeleteBrilliant, Kerri. I love the rhythm.
ReplyDelete