NaPoWriMo Day 21: Lockdown Blues

It almost seems

Pathetic

To complain

When we have a roof

A house

Money coming in- less, mind

So much less

And no help from on high

Thanks to creeping criteria

And tape not so much red

As blue-blood coloured

Fuck the Tories

Fuck the Tories

Fuck the Tories

But that aside,

We’re doing ok

We really are

Our kids are alive

Thriving with

Words and number and music and art

Hardly as full of education

As at school

We don’t pump, we trickle

More of a well-worn spring than a gushing geyser

Of knowledge.

But we’re doing ok,

I write, he does

Most everything else

I talk with friends

We drink

We laugh

So why

Do these tears creep

Creep in the night

Creep out of my Judas eyes

Down my face

Into my throbbing heart.

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