by Jonathan Hamilton
Arrived, the same day you were taken away
in an ambulance. Leaving me behind. That morning
I sat legs crossed on the living room floor
constituent parts in front of me, arms/legs/cushions.
The assembly instructions spelt out in hieroglyphs
I have never been handy, and so, like some cowboy builder
all shorthand and temporary fixes I set out to piece it together.
My deadline your return, at that stage ToBeDeterminded
it gave me time, to take the constituent parts and create
somewhere for you to sit when you got home,
somewhere to read, to convalesce. No one has sat in it yet,
it wobbles under the weight of cushions and throws,
it has become another
scratching post for the cat.
About the author
Jonathan Hamilton was born in Belfast and is currently based in Sheffield, South Yorkshire. He studied English Literature and History at University in York before pursuing a career in Restaurant Management. In the past, his poetry has appeared in online journals such as A New Ulster. He is currently working towards the publication of his first collection.
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