Accidental damage

Is it a good Idea to get together because of a baby ?


The empty beer-cellar bang of a daytime night club,
sticks to the stale ale carpets and painted purple corners,
dark enough to mask the faint smell of bleach and vomit.

But at night, the lights writhe in a snake pit of colour,
sweat arcs the air like blood splatter patterns,
tunes revolve the room. Fueled by shot glass harmonics,
inhibitions burst in Prosecco bubbles, before they fall flat.

Outside behind the bins the exit sign
dims and glows above a drunken clash
of teeth and hips, stricken sailing ships,
split masts wrapped around the midriff.
Below decks the crew blindly follow orders,
shot loaded and fuse set, a single cannon
separates the wrecks.

The kitchen sink clutter of a dank tiny flat
clings to the smell of damp washing and nappies,
hard enough to hide the false smile of a teenage lament.

But each day, the walls peel away to reveal a darker stain,
he bought her flowers with the first pay cheque, they hang
as a reminder. Fueled by cries from a cot, a worry
that if she starts to shake, she may never stop.

© savvi 2019
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critique and comments welcome.

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Nemo
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I’m pleased I popped in after beating a retreat from this site to see what’s going on and I come across your poem. Another harsh reality scene so often a feature of your writing, Keith. There’s the sense that you are very familiar with pub and night-club land, so accurate are the observed details. May I suggest that you leave out the unnecessary “Is it a good Idea to get together because of a baby ?” In the third stanza, the below-decks pandemonium is a scene we can envisage but haven’t we got the message well before we get to… Read more »

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