Tuesday, 28 February 2012

bill (what else could it be)


An envelope bears the expected package
Before it opens the red cross explains the content

In the awkward, crowded space between knowing
For sure and just guessing, and hoping

There has been so many moments akin
Where putting it off is an exercise

One where we never get fit, our muscles remember
Anyway, time and again where it is obvious

We’ve all gone through the trepidation
Understanding full well it cannot be elation

Never, to recollection, has this sensation felt right
I am clutching abstractly at the letter

The inevitable image of the objective invoice
Something utterly static and beyond symbolic rapprochement

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