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Mother And I

Spilling tea
As I pass this
Mug to
You,
I hear your complaints, you dictatorial
Eyes focussed on the
Diffusing scented patch;
Maroon liquid on pale rug-

'There is graffiti on your radiator.
Rub it off and don't dare do it again.'-

So soaking the sanitary paper
In chemically purified water,
I set to the extermination.

Beside my bed,
My metal canvas,
That afforded me
With consoling euthanasia each
Occasion on which rays submerged
And night impinged,
This metal canvas
Is wiped of patterns
And conceptions;
Visual aid graphite self,
That it allowed me to
Scribble in return.

I step these feet out of the room,
(Noting the clock
Flashing 12: 00)
Descending downwards
To where her's tap.
She asks-'It's gone? '-
I repeat-'It's gone.'-

Passing, I see Empusa has been
Sprayed, the seneschal's request,
And that developing mark
Has been absorbed,
Assimilated into the rug.

poem by Mark Challenger
Added by Poetry Lover
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