SATURDAY (a poem)

A quiet noise falls upon unwashed tiles

Rodents scurry

Plates spin in the air of discontentment

A hush descends

Discarded clothing hangs lifeless and grey

A tap drips

Leaves blown by a named wind accumulate by the window

A spider, waiting

Dry eyes ache behind crusted lids

Overworked, over-tired

A body rolls over; falls back into nightmares

Sleeps, sweats, suffers

Bread rises in a broken oven

Infants skip in colourless boots

Stains remain, remains stay

Unpumped tyres expectant

Promises lay scattered, shattered

Unfaithful minds flutter and fade

Heavy hearts quicken

The same, the same, the same.

RC 20-10-18