Such a good word, ‘supine’. I
Thought about that, sighing, as I
Felt the bones uncrack, the muscles
Unscream, the nerves unjangle,
Stretched out my crumpled spine,
Happy to finally uncurve my back. Of
Course, that is when the kitchen chose
To attack. First I heard the mixie whirr –
The younger was there pottering and I
Seriously thought it had helicoptered away
With her. I ignored it. The demand on my
Supined Self was high, and I couldn’t afford it.
Then came the shrieks and squawks, the splash
The spill. I mean, forget explosive, we’re talking
Long story short, it was everywhere. Banana mango
Ooze on counter, cabinet, oven and chair, gloop
Underfoot and glops in the hair, and the wailing
At the loss of labour and shake too much to bear.
The family wonders now why the kitchen is shining.
I wonder what happened to my plans of supining.