Inspired by a reading of Philip Larkin’s poem, ‘High Windows’, within his anthology of the same name, whilst struggling to come to terms with a Monday morning – helped, in part, by a pot of tea in a Waitrose cafe.
Spilling milk, and feeling jugged, I gather up my teapot, spilling
water – hot, on fingers immune
now,
to heat, and pain, but still
now
anxious – shaking, spilling,
wasting time
now
wasting time
apologising.
Sorry.
Stomach churns,
head hurts, –
wary.
Sprogs at school,
no work to call, to hear my rumbles, to watch me
fall.
What now?
Pot of tea and Larkin’s words:
‘High windows’ –
brought down
low.
Limping feet – pass
by, under window bar,
topless of torso, like plastic – the legs of a doll
snapped off from real life, just ambling along, limping, painless, detached.
Sorry.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, 17th October 2019
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 