The world’s your oyster,
Your daddy said, but he
Lied as often as a parrot
Pees, strung you out like
Wet washing. You are the
World’s spit bowl, the some
Thing unmentionable beneath
Their shoe, or so it seems, at
Least to you, lying awake at
Night, watching the shadows
On the ceiling, feeling the
Groping hands of Cunningham,
Knowing what he wants, always
Wants, the groper of the dark,
Sniffing the air, remembering
The lost babe, the wrapped
Shawl, white like snow, the
Dead babe taken away, bad
For business, Mrs Griffen said,
Having a child around, best off
Where, you’ll get over, all things
Come and go. Never forget that.
White against the black dress,
The mass, the priest with his
Pokerface features, the coffin
Lowered. You know the tune
Of grief, understand the wants
Of men, feel the emptiness of
The world’s shell, touch the edges
Of love’s feel, and just when day’s
Light pushes through the shutters,
Cunningham turns over, farts
And mutters. Some oyster, this is,
You think, some relationship, what
A dingy room, what a life, what a stink.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
The world’s your oyster,
Your daddy said, but he
Lied as often as a parrot
Pees, strung you out like
Wet washing. You are the
World’s spit bowl, the some
Thing unmentionable beneath
Their shoe, or so it seems, at
Least to you, lying awake at
Night, watching the shadows
On the ceiling, feeling the
Groping hands of Cunningham,
Knowing what he wants, always
Wants, the groper of the dark,
Sniffing the air, remembering
The lost babe, the wrapped
Shawl, white like snow, the
Dead babe taken away, bad
For business, Mrs Griffen said,
Having a child around, best off
Where, you’ll get over, all things
Come and go. Never forget that.
White against the black dress,
The mass, the priest with his
Pokerface features, the coffin
Lowered. You know the tune
Of grief, understand the wants
Of men, feel the emptiness of
The world’s shell, touch the edges
Of love’s feel, and just when day’s
Light pushes through the shutters,
Cunningham turns over, farts
And mutters. Some oyster, this is,
You think, some relationship, what
A dingy room, what a life, what a stink.
OLD POEM.
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