The groaning blinds
The airless room
The internet connection
That wouldn’t allow us to Zoom
The ill firing hobs
Firewood not included
Same goes for wardrobe doors
Clothes not secluded
Your ill timed visit
Whilst we were in the throws
The flush of your lav
Your septic stench grows
To stand in the bedroom
Would be a delight
We either crawl to the left
Or roll to the right
To extend yourself fully
Would be a mistake
A mild concussion
Is a risk we do take
And the portal to the stars
Has only a binary setting
No compromise here
Choose cold or sweating
But you deliver a fan
Our saving grace
We say thank you Sue
There’s no change to your face
But a change of clothes
At the bottom of the stairs
In between the draws
And living room chairs
Leads to a bump on the knob
With the outside of my knee
There’s a crack in the glass
And an additional fee
We do the right thing
We’re honest, we’re good
We don’t pretend it didn’t happen
As some certainly would
You say “these things happen”
But present us with no choice
“It’s from John Lewis” you proclaim
In your middle class voice
Full price to be paid
That’s what you see fair
We disagree
The cost we should share
But there’s no movement on this
Your mind has been made
There’s no bend in you
No game to be played
So it is like for like
And our animosity grew
So here’s your Florence Mirrored Chest of Draws
Fuck you Sue.
