Sally Richards

A glass or two at the weekend

She stands
lubricated by the third large glass
of red
regaling the group
with some story or other
hasty choice of white plastic pumps
incongruent
with the setting.

They sit
with supercilious smiles;
through gritted teeth - the odd sip
of Chardonnay;
eyes telling a different story

distain leaks
from the corner of mouths
as she gets louder, more animated
by the minute.
The one, alpha, male
attempts, without success, to subdue
her exuberance;
she’s having none of it

This is her moment
her time, her captive audience,
away from invisibility,
his bellowing presence;
she can really let go.

Maybe her delusion is a blessing,
better than the truth
of never being heard.

Sally Richards © 2009

A Change of Perspective

All the emotional years;
a banner of guilt
hanging over my head –
failure, bad person, failure

Friends I lost along:
banished
from their minds,
electric-shocked
out of worlds.

Awake in the dark
soaked through
with pain of memories

blackened days,
light-filled nights;
sleep-stalked-horrors
rumbling through the quiet peace

…paled into the distance
when once again
I heard times’ thunder,
felt its chill on my face,
as it circled my green.
 

Sally Richards © 2009