Just read a poem that arrived in my inbox, by Brandon Som. I struggled to follow many of the lines, as some were in languages other than English and, much to my shame, I am not even bilingual, let alone multilingual! Nonetheless, the following two lines stuck! Perhaps in the same way that a saw, abandoned part-way through a knee-replacement op might stick!
it was with short, forced words
like first strokes when sawing—
(Lines borrowed from ‘Close Reading’, a by Brandon Som, as featured on Poem-a-Day.)
And, as I jot these thoughts down, I have suddenly become aware of a distant drilling sound. A neighbour’s lawn mower? A hedge trimmer? A workman drilling through concrete? It’s 8.22am and I’ve woken up from a deeply-disturbing nightmare with a splitting headache. Should I blame the Sertralin, the drilling, or my hubby’s rants of anguish?
‘Why don’t any of these lids fit the sandwich containers? Why is Sprog 2 still in the bath wasting all that water? Why can’t I find …?’
This is not what I need. I need to shut it all down, take myself out of it all.
I gave up the day job – the 6.30am start and the hour’s drive to work is just a nasty bygone memory.
So why, then, do I feel like there’s a saw doing a slow run through my knee joint and a pair of drills rushing to meet each other via my temporal lobes?
Surely all of that torture stuff only happened back in the …
I might have given up the day job, but there’s something else I need to give up – Sertralin!
Time for the alternative stress-beating strategy.
Time to write.
Shame that it’s also time for doing the stay-at-home-mum-thing. The school run!
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, Friday 29th September, 2019