Monday Morning
Monday Morning
When I opened the kitchen door the fridge
had an attack of the shakes then feel into
dejected stillness which bayed in my ears.
To break this force of nothingness I spoke
and sounded like a wounded duck and
the beer bottle held in a clammy hand fell
with a foamy splash on the floor; wordless
fear. Why me?
The fridge rattled again but there was
nothing of worth on its shelves other than
bacon, eggs, cheese. Stop, I feel sick.
Turned on the tap and fat maggots dripped
into my glass, that too ended on the floor;
fled, outside people starred at me because
I was dressed in a red bathrobe with Hotel
Astor stamped on the back.
Copyright © Jan Oskar Hansen
Copyright © Jan Oskar Hansen | Year Posted 2012
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