deepundergroundpoetry.com
Home comforts.
In Harrogate sometimes
the air is so thick
I could bleed smog through my pores
and the tune of each little drummer boy
echoes in my ears and up my nose.
On the drive back to Ipswich
by train or car
I allow the stench of
needed freshener
to exfoliate my skin
and the grass in all it's green
to swallow my eyes whole.
A yawn. Nothing more. I lose the keys to a hallway drawer
and surrender to familiar oxygen.
the air is so thick
I could bleed smog through my pores
and the tune of each little drummer boy
echoes in my ears and up my nose.
On the drive back to Ipswich
by train or car
I allow the stench of
needed freshener
to exfoliate my skin
and the grass in all it's green
to swallow my eyes whole.
A yawn. Nothing more. I lose the keys to a hallway drawer
and surrender to familiar oxygen.
Published 16th Jun 2012
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