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a poem by Sonia Hendy-Isaac (1 of 2)
Postcard
The long haul flight sucks, you'll be complaining
about the influx of faux Burberry, package holiday,
Hacker shirt wearing riffraff stealing
recycled oxygen that I'm not breathing.
I don't envy her as she misunderstands
the rise of your satirical brow and your sighs
softer than drizzle but audible to me.
You don't want me, but you don't want her either.
I am an itch she can't scratch, a thirst
she can't slake, the fuck that fucks back.
When your tan smudges to a November freckle
I'll be elsewhere; regret will dampen every snapshot.
I hope the suns shines and the beer is cold;
this is a postcard that won't be sent.
about the influx of faux Burberry, package holiday,
Hacker shirt wearing riffraff stealing
recycled oxygen that I'm not breathing.
I don't envy her as she misunderstands
the rise of your satirical brow and your sighs
softer than drizzle but audible to me.
I am an itch she can't scratch, a thirst
she can't slake, the fuck that fucks back.
When your tan smudges to a November freckle
I'll be elsewhere; regret will dampen every snapshot.
this is a postcard that won't be sent.
© by Sonia Hendy-Isaac
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #9 ~ May 2010
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