ode to wickham market

Yet another

Glug

Of tea

And fags of course

Take pride of place

Upon the mantelpiece

Of a mind

In fester

Entropy

Sates and shushes

The radio

Ameliorates

Evolution

Dozes off

Procrastinating

In a downward thrust

Of justification

Between a burning bush

Of Laudicean torpor

And idle deification

The merest task

Mildly beyond

The miracle

Of grace

Tying a shoe lace

Washing

Muesli from a bowl

Sucking blue miasma back

Draining yet

Another tepid

Desultory dreg

With retching then

The sofa spews

A paragon of animals

Infinite in lethargy

Into a dull embrace

With destiny

And herald’s

Yet

Another

Lazy

Drag

And

Slop

Of death.

photo - martin cooke