Thursday, 11 June 2015

Good morning?


the sun bakes heat on the iron roof
and shoots it up through my
glorious array of windows

is it back so soon for more?

I am dry and dressed – but
for one drop
caressing the back's contours

three days' dishes drip their suds:
the chosen few detour through breakfast
back to the other side

squirting avocado juice into bleary eye,
dropping muffin crumbs anywhere but
the plastic target
and letting egg white run wild
and uncontained across the crooked pan

3 comments:

Marnie said...

Hmmm... It goes in the opposite direction to most of your poems, it starts in glorious brightness and descends into the depressing chaos of listlessness, even apathy. Hope your day improved...

sarah said...

I don't know that it did much, that one.
it's interesting that you saw glorious brightness, whereas for me it was more like stifling sauna-like heat, which is what happens when the sun has a clear go without clouds at the community centre roof below my windows!

Marnie said...

It reminds me of T S Eliot's Preludes or a companion piece in antithesis, as he starts in the evening, in winter, and involves community along with the individual. But it has that same feeling of bleakness and out of control lethargy & 'Who cares?' or "What's the point?' The first Prelude is one of my favourite poems, for all its bleakness, as it finishes with a note of hope - the lighting of the lamps - though the rest of the preludes are not so hopeful.