‘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.
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.