.X.

7th May 2015

Meg Watts

"7th May 2015"

I wake in a homely soft, morning haze
gently illuminated
through the curtains you made;
this should be my safe space but
today there is no warmth-
only a sullen, inside-twisting kind of dread.
You are still up;
(it’s a school night!)
the lights are still on downstairs-
All night you have sat up and goggled, calculated,
estimated and pleaded
watched two monoliths crash and burn
watched the tide slowly, irrevocably, insipidly turn;
silently cursed.
Your eyes are red from crying, or
perhaps the screen.
We are waking up
to a bad new government.
We must now go about our lives,
head to our funding-cut schools
our newly insecure jobs
our desperate European friends
under this bad new government.
salt-stained, I delay the inevitable;
The car-door-tarmac-school-field-classroom-exit.
‘Don’t worry Love’, Dad fruitlessly consoles:
‘Your Nana will never allow herself to die under the Tories’.
For now, at least,
She lives in power.

Meg Watts (she/her): Queer writer seeks creative community to
(eventually) establish eco-commune. Tells funny stories, makes
bad art and says f!ck no to Capitalism. Occasionally succumbs to
nihilistic despondency under crushing weight of environmental
anxiety and sheer injustice of Eurocentric, heteronormative and
patriarchal hegemony. Counters with activism (and sad, sexy
poetry). Interested? Check @megwattscreative

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