December 26

No glee here on the day after Christmas.
The sky is cold and dull, and last night's
Dishes tower by the sink. Duck grease
Stands, now hard, a half inch deep inside
The roasting pan. The liquor cabinet's
Almost bare. The house is silent, but for
My intemperate oaths. You've gone back
Home; in doing so, made here not home.
It's just a place where I must labor without
Benefit of payment, sustenance of glee.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 83 times
Written on 2019-12-26 at 19:03

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