Emergency

 
I ring 999  
‘Emergency, which service do you require?’  
‘Cleansing department please’  
‘I’m sorry sir, Police. Fire, Ambulance or Coastguard?’  
 ‘The cleaners’  
‘What is the nature of your emergency, sir?’  
‘I’m unable to use this effin’ phone box,  
It stinks of stale tobacco and ancient piss  
Can’t use it like this’  
‘And someone puked in the corner last month  
The evidence is still festering here  
My dear.’  
I can’t see through the windows  
For the obscuring grime of time  
The smoke smell from the ashes of yesterday  
For which I ever pay  
A metaphor for my life  
The piss, taken from me  
The puke’s faint odour persists,  
a reminder of my desiccated past  
‘I’m sorry, sir, you’ll have to clear the line  
Cleaning is not an emergency’  
It is here  
Do you not understand?  
I need help  
Can you hear me, mother?