Issue Two

Patricia Walsh

Quarter Past Nine

A distance from sleep, suited to the yearning

on monetarism slights, worst in living memory

this intermittent silence breaks the catcalls

true to form, sent back with documentation.

A luxury washed clean, verbal molestation

calling out for cold water inveigles itself

no show this week, being free and easy

priceless to pay on love with benefits.

Hinging on the awful, best of all worlds

kissing the crone before all that matters

versifying the likelihood of another day

opening private doors to a derisory start.

A tidy occupation, with there were more like you

replying to adverts, kill to reply perhaps?

Deep thinking over an alcoholic situation

drinking any price to avoid communication.

The beloved remains the same, comforting

colouring in the complex, staid over the details

pleased to announce that all shall be well

believed in spite of surgical doubt, whatever.

Greatness is your mission, if you wish to choose it

quality hitting hard despite commitment

nagged and scolded into productivity, maybe

breaking glass would hold up the weather.


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