Time Management
TIME MANAGEMENT
I did a jig when I was small
When he told me to dance.
He’d clap his hands,
Small thick hands,
Breakfast sausage fingers,
Clean, white-moony fingernails,
Against my soft-sided hide,
Made suede from his leather
Of depravity and shame
They made a lot of noise,
Those clapping hands, and
With a red face, red nose,
His red eyes veined with lies
And vodka, would
Draw up at the corners in a
Half leer, half killer’s smile
So sly - he knew he had me;
He’d not be found out.
‘Twas just biding his time.
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