Was I Yawning? I'm Sorry

Bored?  Oh, no.  How could I be?  We're in your brother's
Living room.  A talent show is on the giant TV hung in front
Of us.  The picture's great.  I see the pores on faces of
The judges and contestants, who are talentless.  I'd prefer
To look away, but, in the absence of a single book, except
The trusty Bible, there's not much in here to see:  some
Undistinguished chairs and tables, empty shelves and naked
Walls, your brother and his lardy family, silently engrossed
By feats of clumsy sleight of hand, a trapeze act, some
Caterwauling.  Should I try to speak, to feign an interest
In the football team, or whether, as is forecast, rain is going
To fall tonight?  I'm not sure what would delight me, nothing
I've encountered here, but am I bored?  Oh, darling no, though,
If you want to leave, you'll hear no protesting from me.





Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 53 times
Written on 2024-11-12 at 17:35

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