Poetry

Cecilia Morris: This Chartered Accountant

This Chartered Accountant   He knows the odour of himself Growing old doesn’t suit him A man with a wife he never loved Three children he’s never understood   Growing old doesn’t suit him His family robbed each breath Three children he’s never understood His white Porsche outside the oxygen of light   His children robbed each breath He slaps round his face His white Porsche outside the oxygen of light The house is empty, he packs some clothes   Slaps cologne around his face Opens the home safe collects the papers The house is empty, he packs some clothes…

Subscribe to get access to all online articles