Bath/Time
‘Please excuse the hypernova in the
bath,’
Said our gruff host
Stabbing a fag out.
‘Just push the mess onto the floor
and
Sit yourself down.
Do you want a drink?
Yeah, I picked it up off a mate
Of mine, who didn’t really have the
room for it.
His missus complained about the
Gamma rays. Said they marked
A beacon like path
Backwards through time
To a place without stars.
Imagine that. No stars.
But, at the end of the day,
I just enjoy orbiting my hypernova
I find it so attractive, dazzling
It makes me feel so small
Yet so infinite, like a god.
It’s filled a gap in my life.
I float like a baby
In a womb and close my eyes.
Crisp?
I fink about shadows a lot
And I’ve taken to staring
Into the eyes of my cat.
Seeing whole galaxies of meaning
And endless depths blinking back at
me.
If you want a refill, just help
yourself.
Mind if I flick the telly on?’
The bathroom looked the same as ever
To me. Paper peeling damply,
Tap dripping, and a trail of
pawprints
Leading directly to the black hole
At the end of the white bath.
Clare Howard-Saunders
If you have any comments on this poem, Clare Howard-Saunders would
be
pleased to
hear them.
