‘Well you know of course
when you know who closes a door
he always opens a window.’
Except I’ve been eating on too many pizzas,
and I’m not sure the hips puberty gave me
are going to get through that narrow opening
without some serious grazing
and attracting the neighbour’s attention
when he goes looking for the wounded animal
dying over the other side of the fence.
At this point you remind me it’s a metaphor,
that you’re not talking about the bathroom window
above the toilet in Francis? Matthew? Thomas?
The bathroom window above Thomas’s downstairs loo.
In your eyes there’s no choice but to hike up my knickers
and make the most of where last night got me,
breakfast and all
and perhaps it might turn out
that this window
is less of a window,
and more like a door.
I fancied trying to write something a bit more light hearted tonight. If anyone has any constructive criticism I’d really appreciate it.