Poems By Raymond Antrobus

Saturday, 21 May 2011

this poem is writing itself at 2.07am

In the supermarket
I avoid the diary aisle
in case I see the yogurt
you used to bring home.

Morning breakfast is honey,
oat meal and unsweetened
Soy milk.

You are the clock on the wall
of my heart.
I’m waiting for the batteries
to run out.

I leave my house without
my camera. I don’t need
any mementos of the time
on your clock.

But I do miss the yogurt.

No comments:

Post a Comment