Friday, 25 November 2011

#13: Kind John Loses It

For Luke

The children are ungrateful.
The regard the wooden toys
he spent the last two months making in his workshop
with wrinkle-nosed skepticism,
turning them this way and that
like a jeweller.

An artery pulses in his reddening throat.
The teacher cannot meet his gaze
and pretends to do her marking.
Some snot-bearded type places his train on the floor
upside-down, and tries to push it along.

KIND JOHN (erupting): Right!
No artisan toys for you, you bloody
bloody bloody bloody (snatching up
smooth pine motor cars with each word)
bloody bloody bloody
shower of bastards!

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