I stand at the window
Hoping the next bolt
Will be the one
That strikes our house
Shorts our circuits
Burns us to the ground
While you sit in your chair
Knitting a mauve scarf
Coming apart at the seams
The storm lifts
The cloud lingers
I ask you what’s for dinner
Its omelette.
I like this poem a lot said - and even more unspoken - in so few words
This is a sort of desperate cosiness against a backdrop of something ludicrous and offensive. Could it be married life, I wonder. I've certainly seen this film before.
Excellent Stu.
If you wish to post a comment you must login.
This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.
Stu Buck
Sun 29th Nov 2015 19:52
thanks all. sometimes restraint is needed to convey true emotions i feel. i originally had quite a dark sexual vein running through this, then took it out completely and to the poems benefit.