Refrigerant Morning Poem by Andy Brookes

The refrigerator is empty, just a few rather stale veg stuck in a shady recess,
a metaphor, I think, for my empty and staid life, a mouldy morsel of cheese green and dry, like the jealousy I feel for lovers who walk in the park
walking hand in hand, stopping every now and then for a stray kiss.

my head is full of rusty nails which rattle against my skull
scratchy and dull.
the sky, which acts like a barometer for my feelings,
is steely and hard as if no plane or fist could punch a hole in it.
wanting to ventilate it so the sun might shaft through and thaw my emotions.

needing milk, eggs and bread, I write a list, at least I think, I can fill the refrigerator, my life however is another question.