Sometimes Even The Words Leave By Joe Hakim

The Polish voices from next door, Sunday's paper on the floor, the empty tin of deodorant spray, change left over from last week's pay. The dirty clothes, the unmade bed, knocked over drink, carpet stained red, the mobile phone top-up card, my neighbour's cat in the yard. Bass-line thumping down the street, pens snapped in half around my feet, the unpaid bill, the broken light, the latest poem I can't write.

Copyright © Joe Hakim 2007

This poem can also be read on iPoetry, the poetry app for the iphone/ipod touch available on the Apple iTunes App Store.

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