I was promised an email
2 days ago,
15 days ago,
24 days ago,
1 month ago,
The days are longer now,
the rain still sits in the ground,
even though it’s November now
People complain it rains too much
I drive long stretches of road,
some stop to tell me my tyre is wobbling,
mainly men, fathers and mechanics
who know where to look
who see the shake in the rim
That time from the accident 5 months ago
when I wanted to tell you what happened
while I was standing on the side of the road
and children cried in the back seat
someone was bleeding,
not me
My inbox piles up,
I have calls to return,
books to read,
poems to pen
A novel wandering in my head,
in and out.
lost
Applications to make,
to get far away
An email is not going to change anything,
My car judders when I stall,
my father says it’s normal
I don’t think it’s normal
and what is normal anyway?
Certainly not unsent emails,
and spaces that stretch on to eternity
September has stretched into October and November is so quiet
and nothing will change anything,
Not even an email,
I should get my tyre checked.
I should get the juddering checked
My inbox is piling up,
and there are things to do in the world
People to save,
stories to start
poems to end
(one month later)
December now,
The rain is still heavy,
People worry,
The heats begins to creep into the mornings
The tyre remains unfixed
No one stops to tell me
or,
perhaps,
I’ve stopped listening
