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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Aug 2021
When it hits
That's it, init ?
isit?
it is.
The weekend dies on its feet
tomorrow I must wake and meet
Monday, head-on, oh god!
something gone wrong,
two days to play?
no way, not with five
days of labour to come,
I'm going to run and
not because I need the exercise
she sees to that,
and that's it
init?
our house is a very very nice house.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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175
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,
The Sick Red Carnation
,
Peter Balkus
,
Brett
and
Naceur Ben Mesbah
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