No, Saturday was not my day.
the sound of the milkman
broke the morning silence

the clock spun round
like cars on a dirt track
I pushed the rice and meat
around the plate

on the balcony
the kids yelled about
to escape to swings and slide.
The front door banged.
Emptiness screamed
around the house
time was crawling

I am lying half-dressed
compliant plastic
emotion internalised
physically compliant
compliant is quicker
the smell of rum,
slips into my mouth
washing over my tongue
Outside is an old tree
the bark and leaf veins
bulge like the veins
on the back of old hands
an irritable wind
forces stiff branches
to imitate play
The dark river is flowing
high tide at the city steps
the road must hear
my silent screaming
another Saturday
rolls away from
my side

Liz Fenton has lived in Asia and Africa, as well as the United Kingdom. She has turned her hand to writing about a very wide range of subjects from horror to magnolia blossom and most subjects in between. Her interests include nature, politics, the Middle Ages and early music.Her work has been accepted online and in print by over thirty journals/ magazines from all over the world. She is working on a series about a flying cat which speaks fluent French! Read more of her work here.