8 am, been up since 6 busy
cleaning inboxes, checked the
top tank bore water return
all’s well in a World of searing
wind-raised fire danger
So far anyway, yet to make
that cup of coffee which takes
me to the covetous edge of
this day’s being – it is a delay
not easily explained
The idea I need to be where
sh*t hits the fan reflexively
engages lower gear – more
a fail-safe cut-out switch than
a self-contained expression
Coffee will make me believe
I am the difference whether
awake or merely imagining
it; though in another way I’d
really prefer disconnection
© 23 September 2009, I. D. Carswell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem