Alone in the house, all quiet except
The washing machine ending its cycle
And passing traffic. There’s only me left
They’ll be back soon. Till then what I write will
Pull unknown treasures from my deep psyche
Exposing exploring exploiting. Foes
Put to the mental sword - Blake meets Viking
Poetry that’s clever but more like prose
All rhyming and timing; how to oppose
This plague of indifference, how to reflect
Not what they want but my own wants, striking
A pose to make them all rise up in rows
A show of confidence people accept
Though swept off course by force from where they liked
Sat 28 June 2008
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