TODAY MUST BE THE DAY It’s still mostly dark And I can hear the rumble of the bulldozers That are coming to cave in the walls. They are distant but coming nearer. Today must be the day. A jet takes off from a secret location, Armed with two missiles – both bearing my name. The bedroom door vibrates as the first light comes in And things start to fall from the dresser. The bathroom sink gargles in anticipation of its death throes. Today must be the day. This place will become a clapboard house toppled, A graveyard soon paved over without a marker of remembrance, My voice to be drowned in the noises of complete obliteration. Today must be the day. I get out of bed, make a cup of coffee And look for a pair of socks to put on, Preferably neither with a hole in the toe. John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.
Like the title says.