coming back to a dark & empty flat
after washing dishes for five hours,
sore and smelly at the feet,
soaked with soapy water at the chest,
hips
thighs
I make toast
& boil water
eject some uninvited spiders
crap
make a shopping list &
and as i write ‘potatoes’,i
am suddenly reminded
of the ribcage
of a girl called Susie;completely
& clearly i remember it,
how fragile it seemed,
how pronounced when she lay on her back
with her arms over her head,
my ear between her breast
listening to her heart thud.
I write ‘onions’.
I write ‘milk’,
‘Bread’,and i make a list
Of debts to pay.
I eat my toast
drink my tea
and leave the dirty dishes in the sink
until morning.
this seems
to mean some-
thing
.
Niall Griffiths
Picture Nick Victor
.