greenstorm | Poem Plus

Crash and burn.

I got to play anxious-daughter-hostessing-family-meal today. If it had been thanksgiving and a turkey, I would have been in there with the blowtorch. As it was, it just took the chili an extra hour to cook. That bumped me too late to see the poetry, which makes me a little sad, but it did mean I got to hang out with roommate and family and chat. That was nice. Estry, guess what? You got invited as family, just like Chris.

Anyhow, that much family and food left me too tired to finish up my plans for the night, so I'm playing duck-and-postpone. Yay me. I've been doing that a lot lately, I should probably cut back on my scheduled activities.

Anyhow, g'night, peoples.

By Simon Armitage

am very bothered when I think
of the bad things that I have done in my life.
Not least that time in the chemistry lab
when I held a pair of scissors by the blades
and played the handles
in the naked lilac flame of the Bunsen burner;
then called your name, and handed them over.
O the unrivalled stench of branded skin
as you slipped your thumb and middle finger in,
then couldn't shake off the two burning rings. Marked,
the doctor said, for eternity.
Don't believe me, please, if I say
that was just my butterfingered way, at thirteen,
of asking you to marry me.