At the fisted toilet door
his son fidgets with his pyjamas,
What’s wrong with you? he shouts.
into his little face.
No one rises to this man, no one
from the nicotine living room.
His stomach feels their numb reply.
His son froze, clutching his teddy
beneath a bare bulb.
Crouching to his level, his eyes
penetrating, he whispers
If they ask, just tell them…
Kevin Reid lives in Angus. He is the founding creator of the online multimedia collaborations >erasure and >erasure ii and Wordless, an image and text collaboration with George Szirtes published by Knives, Forks and Spoons Press. He’s also the editor of Nutshells and Nuggets, a blogzine for short poems. His poetry can be found in various online and printed zines including, Domestic Cherry, And Other Poems, The Open Mouse, Ink, Sweat and Tears, The Interpreter’s House, The Stare’s Nest and The Poetry Bus, and forthcoming in Under the Radar.
Visit http://eyeosphere.com/ to see all his online work.
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Reblogged this on reubenwoolley.
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Child abuse. A poem about a sick excuse for a human.
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And so gently written. A gem of a poem.
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