THE HOURGLASS

by Carmina Masoliver

 

grains of sand pass like biology
my body ticking like a heart
my love straining like tea
cups stacked like domesticity
a routine ready to be broken
mirrors reflecting misfortune
at the roll of the die
longing for the Sky Plus rewind
Craig David, tracksuit fashion and yoyos
something missing like a penny
down the side of the sofa
sold at a car-boot
burned at a bonfire
the fireworks and candyfloss melt away
afraid of nothing now
fill my stomach with a hot dog
onion, ketchup; that strong smell
that bright red

Featured image © Alpha Coders

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