BY MOIRA GARLAND
Copyright is held by the author.
to pay if I haven’t done the washing-up
or dusted in the nooks and crannies.
Satan says you’re missing all the muck.
To me it looks just fine and dandy.
And when it’s done he concocts
some dirty trick and then I’m forced
to keep on keeping on, and get on top
of all my tasks indoors.
It’s certainly a mountain to climb
(have you heard that phrase?)
time after time after time after time
here to serve out all my days.
Moira Garland is a prize-winning poet and fiction writer. Publications include The North, The Adriatic, Dreamcatcher (UK), Commuterlit, and forthcoming in journals Stand, and Sarasvati, andin the Dreich anthology At the Edge of All Storms. Her work appears in numerous anthologies, in print and online, including Consilience journal and Fragmented Voices. Her work has also been broadcast on local radio, set to music as part of Leeds Lieder Festival, and displayed for the Wakefield Moonriver to commemorate the 1969 moon landing. Twitter/Instagram: @moiragauthor