Hummingbirds and Rotting Cabbage

 

Like a hummingbird in a wasp’s nest,
this kid coughed into my mouth for
£50.00
a day, I lost all my
integrity.
you talk a load of bull
you will stay like
a dried out moth to a withered flame
too scared to make a move in case
the tiny flame should
nick the tip
of your crusty wing
you’ll never leave
you’ll die here

“no, I’m moving, I swear.”

“no you’re not, don’t lie.”

The sawdust
that blows through his
mind, weeping rough grains
they travel through
his rotting heart
his lungs full of
the shit that he
has breathed in the past
TWENTY-NINE
years
he snuffs improvement
the coward.

His eyes a swirling sea of
poison, glimmering in
the light of dusk
he sits slumped like a
sack of rotting
cabbage

 

A poem by Sophia Moseley.
She says, “While working on a small publication of new writings, this poem was written in between a shift at work – when I was particularly tired and irritable…” 

Contact: studio@postdarling.com

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