dad navigates the kitchen (satnav needed)
reminds me of the looseness
of family strings
nipping in my throat
cold, blowing through me
i feel its arrival
that's the thing you see, i hate saturday nights
backends of sundays and a drink or two
but the weekend is what i hate
though week days seem to have fun
dragging me down too,
oh well, -- not enough water in the saucepan,
that's the wrong chopping board! --
nine weeks left
of school,
(it creeps up before you know it)
i don't know whether to be scared
or excited. 'that's going to burn,
this is my kitchen.'
'it's nobody's kitchen, mummy's perhaps.'
'it feels like my kitchen. i can smell it burning.'
the darkness is drowning me today,
left room for contemplation
of it -- but no i mustn't.
i brew tea, late afternoon
and drown in thought.
(1st March 2014)
YOU ARE READING
Blue Moon
Poetry"Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies Never seen by waking eyes." - Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There (2012 - 2014)
