Monthly Archives: February 2016

Laertes

I was only ever a pawn, wasn’t I?

Dispatched in Act 1 to be

despatched in Act 5, missing

all the deaths but my own: my

father’s murder, my

sister’s suicide, all caused by his

sullen, injured otherness.

 

Was my primrose path meant to

placate me (as I bustled about,

playing bit parts), and who

exactly was it you loathed so much to

exterminate a family? For I know

however nice you seemed you

certainly knew how to hate.

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Victory?

You thought it a victory to bed me but

what was that feather on your pillow when you

woke with me gone, wondering

what bird it might be from and how it

got in through closed windows.

 

And I walk away, putting my

fingers to my nose until your

feral smell slowly fades

into the prickly scent of bay.

 

Puzzled, you shrug into

yesterday’s clothes emblazoned with that

annoying tick that is nowadays and

I suppose forever

my name.

 

Lists

There’s a rage that grows with age,

seeing old mistakes revisited,

reinvigorated, wanting to

bang heads together, make those

shouting “Revolution” watch the

slow or barbarously speedy

deaths of millions

unlucky enough to end up on

someone’s list, the list of

those hated, not wanted, not

worthy of the latest Utopia, and I

defy you to tell me you

don’t have such a list

secreted somewhere about

your person.

Work

Work is a super-saturated solution

panned for the

tiny flecks of gold which

over time you hope will end up

weighing something.

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