Gedicht
Samantha Wynne-Rhydderch
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Tails you lose, so for the exhibitionI fired ten ceramics as the apology
you never got round to making
in pen and ink. This one’s a bijou collage
of all the phoneboxes I cried in as a waitress
between split shifts. That one’s my glass slipper.
You see, it fits perfectly. Manolos, if you must
know. And here’s a game of poker
made from the buttons of a shirt you left
behind, twisted and stuck on green felt.
Let me get this right, you both being lawyers,
did you say you were the loser and she the liar
or vice versa? Word for word, please.
Oh, and, can I have that in writing?
© 2008, Samantha Wynne-Rhydderch
From: Not In These Shoes
Publisher: Picador, London
From: Not In These Shoes
Publisher: Picador, London
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Gedichten van Samantha Wynne-Rhydderch
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PRIVATE VIEW
Tails you lose, so for the exhibitionI fired ten ceramics as the apology
you never got round to making
in pen and ink. This one’s a bijou collage
of all the phoneboxes I cried in as a waitress
between split shifts. That one’s my glass slipper.
You see, it fits perfectly. Manolos, if you must
know. And here’s a game of poker
made from the buttons of a shirt you left
behind, twisted and stuck on green felt.
Let me get this right, you both being lawyers,
did you say you were the loser and she the liar
or vice versa? Word for word, please.
Oh, and, can I have that in writing?
From: Not In These Shoes
PRIVATE VIEW
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