The TV starts to blur as my brain fizzes
with the bleak thoughts of a quiet Saturday night.
Tipped sideways on the couch with a downturn mouth,
I wish I’d gone out.
Over the soft sounds of Star Wars,
the Chinese New Year roars from my housemate’s room.
Deep in my personal gloom, I swallow the bitter taste
of acrimony. Because he’s really alright,
and he sat up all night with us on our New Year’s Eve.
I quickly shovel biscuits into my face
to stifle the growth of protests in my throat,
and reflect that Empire really is the best.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Written at Janet Jackson's Poetry Workshop
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment