The Writers Voice
Favourite Literary Website
One Man Went to Sew
jerky, puppetry movements
Due to a tightly fitting green velvet dress,
With closely fitting sleeves
And porcelain white stilettos.
Her red hair was tied and moulded
Into the style of a soap queen.
Gothic makeup, for sophistication,
Made her look more dead than alive.
Slender red clawed fingers,
As she poured an expensive malt
For the surgeon.
He fell into his lounger
Placing his case on the floor.
He still wore his winter coat.
He picked up the remote
And zapped the hi fi into life.
Closing his eyes,
He had the company of a full orchestra.
He looked faintly worn,
Too young to have grey thinning hair.
Vigorously rubbed tired eyes.
He took the malt, downed it in one,
Handed the glass back, for a refill.
Not a word was spoken.
His glass was replenished,
He took it, without opening his eyes.
She put on her coat and left.
There were no goodbyes.
Through closed drapes,
He saw the sweep of headlights
Sent the orchestra packing.
As he walked to the kitchen,
He threw his coat to the floor.
He was talking on his mobile,
Saying "The coast is clear."
Life is a cliché, an affair is a cliché.
He carried the large bottle of cider
Like a new born. With two cheap mugs.
He hurried upstairs.
She'd been tricking for two years.
Just before her sixteenth
She met the surgeon
And life was on the rise.
She held the key to his door,
The key to his life,
The key to her life.
She threw her coat on the floor
Next to his and she was naked.
He entered the room
In teenage garb,
Topped with baseball cap.
He zapped the hi fi.
With steady hands, she poured the cider,
As he danced, disco danced,
To the music.
She then rolled two cigarettes.
In the morning, before he left,
He glanced back at the soap queen.
Disgusted with his marriage,
Sickened with his life,
Delighted with his pastimes,
One man went to sew
And mend and save.
Critique this work
Click on the book to leave a comment about this work