Wasp in the room
By Ivor Griffiths

buzzes a dark empty, cold room, sunny outside,
thick dark blue velvet curtains, black out
all but a chink of light.
Noises outside of others playing.

Door locked she liked to play with dollies
pink dresses and frilly feelings
dressing them carefully with shoes
hiding them all from view.

He liked to watch the pictures grainy
in black and white sepia tones
of earth plants
clawing at their legs, remember?

Bread frying, dark brown, umber edges,
left a hanging smell in a stale
tobacco smoke haze, while
crispy greasy fingers rubbed legs.

She laboured through mud and dark
to placate a man with womb and pain,
bloated she cried through lack of love.
Eyelids swollen red stinging, ears buzzing.

Lemon and limejuice spilt
floor sour yellow feast of sticky poison
he warily lifts the blue black curtain.
Air is whirring pain and noise, remember?

Crouch down whisper
hide small and wait,
dark and warm,
black and yellow.

Authority figure buzzing. Ivor Griffiths, 2006
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