Armchair Exit, by Siobhan Atkins

Russians are wrong and so is Trump
the world has gone to pot
He mumbles at his TV screen
he sees it all as a plot

The sound is better than silence
and it’s been this way for years
Ever since his Marjorie passed
distraction has stemmed the tears

His pension doesn’t go far enough
when he buys microwave meals for one
On cold days he gets out the blanket
When it’s hot he stays out of the sun

The TV’s constant commentary
gives a window on the world
And although he knows his history
doesn’t see his own unfurl

Royal wedding on the telly today
he adjusts the volume up
To drown the party outside on the street 
he raises whiskey slurped from a cup

The local kids are scared of him
and he’s terrified of them
He lives in fear of everything now
For the man he once was it’s a shame

Of course it wasn’t always this way
he recalls the happier times
All those new satellite stations 
when the old church bell still chimed


Siobhan Atkins lives in the beautiful Sperrins with two humans, two dogs, two peacocks and a scattering of hens. Her passion is poetry and conservation, however Elvis and Sci-Fi also rate highly. She has featured asemic work here  and poetry here  among other published work.

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