Last night’s glasses, this morning’s mugs
are unwashed, strewn about.
Up to one’s armpits in unbrushed hair
and grubbled bedsheets, cleaning starts
with teeth and hands.
Ironing unfolds on the unswept floor.
Cupboard doors that will not fasten
remain unfixed.
Frayed attachments wait
on calls to friends not made.
Step outside. Pruning, overdue.
Fences to whitewash and patch up.
The news is closing in.
Beyond an uncut lawn, the earth
demands to be undug.
What, in the ever-perishing now,
is measure of each day?
Silent poems do not show
the little difference protest brings.
Nor the permanence of revolution.
The Shouting Tories: Bread & Roses Poetry Award Anthology 2022
iv. 2022
