Today’s a day for not looking,
for refusing to see. A day
of pretence, for living in distraction.
A day of denial, refusing to
acknowledge what waits. A toddler
holding its hands over its eyes so
it can’t be seen. Today,
I shall not feel the weight
upon my back. Today,
I dam the dike with a finger,
adrenaline stoppered for now.
Today, I write verse. Tomorrow?
Tomorrow doesn’t exist.
Not yet. Tomorrow must wait.

Tomorrow I sit my doctoral viva retake. I should be revising.
(27.04.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Gabor Koszegi on Unsplash