Stormy Weather


Any day would have to be
better than another
twenty-four hours of all this
wind and rain.

There’s a leak in the roof,
the power’s off,
and I’ve got this mournful song
on the brain.

Nothing tastes as it used to.
There’s no bite left,
and the edge has been knocked
off my life.

But I’m not complaining,
or mocking
the doctors, teachers, politicians,
my dog or my wife.

It’s just the way things are.
A small sore
on the bland scheme of things.
Nothing of note.

As the mournful song puts it:
When things get real
bad, you can always cut someone
else’s throat.

from Fourteen Reasons for Writing (Hazard Press, 2001), © Kevin Ireland 2001, used by permission of the author. Recording from the Aotearoa New Zealand Poetry Sound Archives (2004).

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