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The Slattern
She hasn’t driven her vacuum cleaner around the rooms;
the dust sits thick.
Piled up dishes will be taken care of – soon.
Hillocks of washing swell and lie in ambush;
windows are opaque with grime;
the fridge’s fruiting moulds are eager to be let loose.
Newspaper castles yellow in the sunny afternoons;
the bottle stack threatens;
a compost bucket barely contains its ooze.
the bottle stack threatens;
a compost bucket barely contains its ooze.
Blue emerges from an ancient plastic tube
atop a slimy sink.
The slattern sings. Loudly and out of tune.
atop a slimy sink.
The slattern sings. Loudly and out of tune.
Image via Wikipedia
This is one of mine, originally published in Blackmail Press – the 36 inch bust issue.
You can access the other Tuesday poems by clicking on the quill to the left.
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