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Poetry Magnum Opus

Sally Jones


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I was not happy on Tuesday.

The world went to hell in the Middle East

and I slit my wrist, the left one,

not wishing to die, but to be loved

and perhaps forgiven. Why am I

such a stupid cow? My friends


don’t seem to have the same problems.

I want to be happy, I really want that,

and don’t blame my fuckin stupid husband,

not for a moment: he loves me, the fool:

three fucks in the car park behind the bar

and he asked me to marry him. Why not?


Mam and Dad were driving me mad,

and I couldn’t wait to get out of the house

and he had a job then. Now he’s on the Bru,

spends half of it down at the Storm and Anchor

with lipstick tarts and smoking gobbers

he thinks might be his friends.


At least we have no kids: if I had any kids

I know he’d desert me, just leave me alone

at the mercy of the oh so cold Social Services:

welcome to the underside of our country

where we will strive to keep you alive, within limits,

and treat you with total contempt. People


should have a better way to live. I mean

I don’t expect the State to support my life

but it’s not an easy road. One little mistake

and every damn thing goes wrong. I cry

from time to time, I fall, use up lots of tissues,

know the issues, hope my friends will never call.

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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Sad when the biggest thing in life is just to wake up and face the world, yet that's what reality is for so many. I wondered if this related to the BBC newsreader after reading the opening stanza-- or perhaps even a skit at the American country music singer. Then, A Taste of Honey, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, Cathy Come Home-- sprang to mind. Nothing changes much-- least of all human nature. Same old shit-- different decades. I like the fluent way you express it though. B.

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David W. Parsley

Another one that is just plain true, Brendan. And that is too bad. Well written.


- Dave

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