Brexit
how easily we gave up our birth right
we were not even truly hungry
but we swallowed what we were told
only later did we come to regret it
when the true cost caused us
to look at what we had bought
with clear eyes
I am not sure where this next poem came from. I found it nearly fully formed in a notebook. I have no recollection of writing it.
this morning I discover
I am missing a layer of skin
clothing itches
every step informs me
my shoes are just that bit too loose
to the mirror I present the same image as yesterday
unflayed but sensitive
some people you tell me
spend their whole lives like this
I am silent waiting for tomorrow
Lastly a poem about forgetting your lunch.
halfway down the motorway
the image of his lunch
immobile
on the kitchen top
popped into his head
the distance between it
and his stomach widening
it was going to be one of those days
Until next time.
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