Roderick Manson

Party

Hell’s teeth!
She’s looking at me.
She’s coming over.
I suppose she has to –
she is the host
and there’s absolutely no-one else here.

Where are they all?
This is a party, after all,
and everywhere else is just dead.
So, where are the guests?
Where’s all the food
and, for the love of God, where’s the drink?
I need a drink.
I really need a drink.
I really need a large drink.

She’s wearing that dress,
that almost-dress,
that makes so many statements at once
that they seamlessly merge into one.

I just say I’m sorry
I was half-an-hour late

and more than the penny drops.

Copyright © Roderick Manson 2015

Roderick Manson climbs mountains and writes poetry, often at the same time.  He lives in Blairgowrie with a cantankerous black cat called Schrodinger.

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About sunnydunny

Poet, publisher, gardener
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2 Responses to Roderick Manson

  1. lornabramley says:

    I’m such a romantic! I love this! You have left me wondering, what happened next, how did they get on, was this the beginning…? I will now happily daydream.
    Ps I read the ‘than’ as ‘then’ as the end.

    • Roderick Manson says:

      Daydream away Lorna, and thanks for the comment. I like to leave my poems open to some degree so in this case it’s entirely up to you what happens next. Does he run a mile or does he—–? In case you were wondering, the poem is not autobiographical (but where there’s breath there’s hope).

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