On a Sunday Afternoon

Elinor Clark

Elinor Clark

I muse my bed
deep think to the ceiling

I hungry the biscuit tin
lazy the sofa
watch an old war film—in each shot a horse dies

I worry a text
riot emojis
laugh and cry and laugh and cry
until I'm all wrung out

sometimes I feel a compulsion to fall in love
ponder the beauty of jointly planning a life

sometimes I feel a burning need to tear open
the car door at high speed
just to see what happens

© Short Édition
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