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.