In the shower today the soap dish held the residue
Of the last six bars used
As I reviewed the year:
Harry,
Tammy,
Stuart Broad’s devastating spell at the Oval,
World Cup qualification,
Phil Taylor’s domination,
The Road read,
Athlete’s Black Swan,
Mr. Eastwood’s latest on the big screen,
Miyazaki’s unseen,
Cinema in town for the first time in a generation,
Separating and returning and
Eventually learning the error of that course
And initiating divorce.
My sister’s kid getting uppity and fleeing,
My sister agreeing to it,
Friends leant upon and abused
Lost and then found,
Leaving their lovers,
Recession,
Depression,
Climate obsessions,
And generally feeling the decade
Couldn’t end too soon to renew itself
As these words will wilt upon my shelves,
Good food,
Health,
A little wealth,
And drinking like a bastard when I’ve had to.
And suddenly I’m purged,
And cleansed again.
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This is almost like a prelude to your summation. The residue of soap and cleansing make for expressive bookends to the litany of events.
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