Since 1996 Volume XXI
Minutes in a Life
cream-coloured walls close in on sterile emptiness
a stainless-steel-sink and wool, forgotten.
the dishwasher’s mouth yawns open
wordlessness reaches out,
out to a watery sound and swirling.
the stepladder cries in the rain, forgotten.
trees, leaves, shed, stand naked
acceptance of winter's burden
while the ceiling fan rotates,
rotates above the scallop-boats in Mornington.
silently the picture speaks
crystal glasses wait for the sweet taste
of medium-dry sherry
the decanter sits quiet, aloof, above it all.
it is unavoidable that they are drawn together
all that’s required is acceptance
tick-tock, tick-tock, the mantle clock
minutes in a life.
I grumble in the driving wet,
as I do my chores, put dishes away.
while inside, the armchair awaits my comfort,
the taste of medium-dry
inevitably, the armchair sighs in comfort.
Copyright, David Barnes.