She has to go.
Has to go as she hammers it home;
as she hams up her deal for hammering it up with Corbyn.
She was the one.
She was the one tapping a pencil on her desk,
tap, tap, tapping it up, vying for attention from her teacher.
She is not for me.
But she still has not gone, as I bash, bash, bash her with
my air-filled mallet – pleading with her to listen.
I have a pin.
And a stab, stab, stab at her heel
letting out the air and deflating her.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, May 2019
‘Soap Bubbles’ image courtesy of Pixabay.com