One Poem by Irene Cunningham

Written in response to this month’s Special Challenge.

Living in an Artefact

Sinking into a canvas, holding on
for ever to the writing on the wall;
speed-crafted letters outlined in black jab
at the world’s scathing eyes that don’t bother
to read. This is me, the remnant at home
with her walls, growing in a chair, a weed,
unkempt, unwanted and pestilential.
I know where everything is, extending
grabber supports my freedom to just sit
through action – exorcising exercise.
I’m in training for the long death, losing
mindfulness; living statues in tourist
season perfect this view of life, pull in
coin…live to pay the piper and the bills.

 

Irene Cunningham’s recent publications: Picaroon, South Bank Poetry, I am not a Silent Poet, Riggwelter, The Lake, Multiverse, Blue Nib, Visual Verse, Strix. She thinks about the outside world but isn’t often there. Nominated for The Pushcart Prize 2019.  http://ireneintheworld.wixsite.com/writer