Rituals is a collection of poems about the flicks and diversions of everyday conversation and interaction. The tactics used to draw or deflect attention, to maintain balance or shift equilibrium
I lie in bed,
wait by the bathroom sink
or stand in the kitchen,
while my mother gets the thermometer.
Hope is coiled, a dog waiting to catch a biscuit,
or air
I’m halfway there
but
the thermometer’s authority is infallible
no alibi,
or testimony irrefutable to its veto.
Time breathes
“okay pop this under your tongue,”
Time holds its breath
damn – a normal reading bins the chance of day off school.
He was the best-known politician in the country
known for much
but not modesty
this was centre stage
camera
lights
TV audience – ratings
a grandstand for a grandstander.
The country’s best-known politician
speaks and snarls in sync with the six o’clock news.
an exchange
sabre rattled
he mistakes the counsel – calling him by the wrong name
and apologises
but cannot resist recrimination –
“ you all seem the same to me.”
Queens Counsel : silk
and silky
“That’s perfectly understandable
Mr … Mr… Mr um …Mr um … ”
then to turned to his junior, stage whispering, “ what’s his name?”
There will not be a post on Good Friday. Orphaned Islands wishes all readers a happy and restful Easter
Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry 