Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 14/10/15

The job market is a very odd place. Well, not so much odd as awful. I thought everything would change after I obtained my degree. It hasn’t really. There aren’t very many opportunities for some with a 2:2 in the Humanities. Graduate schemes want a 2:1 and seemingly no-one wants a poet. Or at least, no-one wants a poet who can’t write poetry.  The only graduate jobs there seem to be are entry level recruitment consultant. I didn’t spend 3 years and thousands of pounds pontificating enjambment to do that!

Ah well, I start a new job on Monday. That’s something at least.

Here is a poem.

The room sat squat in

the far corner of the house, not unused,

not uninhabited

but empty.

The yellow wallpaper

long stained a deeper yellow

through nights of tension.

Charms that danced from the ceiling

and shelves that once cast

sparkling shadows now

slung turgid by the

eight-legged invasion.

The moonlight shone through a gap

in the curtains where it had come loose

from the rail,

illuminating dust particles spat into

the air and a fresh finger mark

cut through the dirt on

a now abandoned baby blue crib.

 

In the room below,

an infomercial ran for its

ninth iteration, selling its wares

to the empty whiskey bottle

under the unpolished oak table.

 

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