1/2023

We writhe through the clichés
While we talk past each other
On the sofa we’ve inhabited
Since early last night intent
On having fun and being
Together the way we want
To be. But we never even
Touched, and the wine was
Left undrunk, and the words
All came out wrong until we
Realise now, this dawn,
That we were never meant
For each other.

R, 01/01/2023

The #MastoPrompt today was “dawn.” I think the way this will work for me is to write a visceral public response to the prompt, and then either to write a private extended version or a private alternative. Let’s see how it goes. It feels very arty and comfy sitting here with O and watching the New Year’s Day concert from Vienna, and scribbling poetry notes into my new journal for the year.