Finding Ikea Poem by Hazel Buchan Cameron

Finding Ikea



We drive like tail enders on a party conga
in search of the Mecca of home furniture.
I buy a wardrobe from the bargain corner,
only to discover I must dismantle it myself,
with screwdriver and allen key - given free.

My daughter lends a hand to strip it down
into plain MDF planks, unhinge doors,
remove shelves and almost break the back.
Our pockets sink heavy with screws and nails.
We know too late we've gone too far.

Going home, we're lost again. At a red light
two men mouth sexual innuendo to my child
through their filthy windscreen. All my black
and white turns grey. I want to tear them apart,
strip them bare, hang, draw and quarter each with care.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success