You get warm and you get fed
and complacent,
as a sleeping cat,
forget the days when
a loaf of bread was all
you had, disaster
when it was mouldy, just
throw away the top slices, eat the rest
and the rent was for a place
with holes in the plasterboard
and still there but for some kind
of grace you had a roof,
mostly not leaking
and the bread,
mostly not mouldy.
Now throw away the end
of the french loaf it's not fresh
enough, order out and waste
half.
You get warm and fed
forget the gut screwing panic
of the power and the phone bill,
which one gets paid,
which one you lie, and lie, and lie
to put off until the next week.
A sea fog in your head,
no money for the doctor,
anyway, no money for
the pills she'd prescribe.
Warm, fed and
wipe out the past,
a safe place, a brick wall
a thousand years, to save you
sourness, misery, fear
if you dare remember it
A hand grasping at your ankle,
forget it stay warm and
pretend it's always
been success and ease