sitting Dali-esque
on the flood plain:
state of the art,
buttons and levers
to warm the seat,
big flush and little flush,
bidet.
You use it
and there is no privacy.
You flush it
and nothing happens.
There is no tissue
to cleanse yourself,
no water
to wash your hands.
In the kitchen
which has been lost
you stand at the open cupboard door
looking for the packet of miso
for the morning soup.
For some reason
it is on the floor
with the rice cooker
and a fallen wall.
When you call the family
to breakfast,
there is no family to come.
--Jessica Reynolds Renshaw
No comments:
Post a Comment