Tuesday Night

by Sarah O’Neill

 

Sometimes I feel like we are two sailors lost at sea.

Stranded for days, bodies slowly dissolving in salt,

Overwhelmed by thirst, our lips a distant memory,

We look at each other and it’s like, Jesus it really is just you and me in all this isn’t it?

Except we’re not sailors, we’re sitting at the kitchen table.

Eating dinner from cork table mats.

And we’re talking about what colour you should paint the bathroom

And if you should let your hair grow and

Poppy! Poppy! Get into your bed, you’ve been fed.

I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with that dog these days.

And it is here that I have learned,

Everything important that there is to know.

And it is here that I’ve learned,

What it is that is important to forget.

I put on the kettle to make the tea and if I am to unstick part of myself, let it be here.

And if I am to become myself, let it be by your side.

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Cover photo by Alasdair Elmes on Unsplash