Im trying to sleep.
Wheezy chest; spunking phlegm
onto the pavement near my window.
I turn over.
‘I’m here mate’: he shouts.
SPLASH into the skip.
What splashes into a skip?
Pillow over face, left and right ears covered.
Edentate groans from your truck,
it’s gasping to hold the bite
outside my window.
They’re fighting with planks,
I can hear the hollow thuds: bloody childish.
Foetal position; duvet over head.
Yes, loudly load the skip at 7:30am,
Alright, I’m up.
© National Poetry Labs