a poem about making sense of life


AGAIN MIDNIGHT

Through a thousand espresso mornings

I’ve waited for life to make sense

of a heap of melted problems; now I sit

dealing out my tattered tarot

of strangled, bleeding bank statements,

losing lottery tickets

and tiny scraps of paper

holding phone numbers without names,

putting the question over and over

to the soggy tea leaves in my chipped old cup.

Published on 30 July 2021 in The Waxed Lemon, a great-looking new Irish print magazine.

3 thoughts on “a poem about making sense of life

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