changing a fuse
how old was I
nine
I don’t remember
too young though
to change
a fuse
my brother stood
serious eyes
part of the home stood
still
no stylus grooved
nor wireless sang
or lamp shone
here
my dad said
you do this
and you do that
wires
were
cut
a screw turned
half way up the stairs
and
half way down the stairs
I watched
not part of the scene
My sister ignored them
I never learnt
Cynthia Buell Thomas
Wed 14th Mar 2012 16:57
I enjoyed this a lot, and follow Steve Black's line of thinking. The poem reads better every time through - a real talent for writing and innovative formatting. Maybe the 'electrical flow' was subliminal.