The Grinding Tide: A Poem on the Cost of Living

I am chasing the grind

and weathering

the

wind,

and getting dressed in cobwebs and stripes

and selling my clothes to a friend

just to stay naked,

just to get by in these times.

*

Fear of getting swallowed by the sink,

swimming through the waves of inflation,

excusing

prices

getting high.

*

Selling me clothes with holes:

sending them back,

holes are holes.

It is times like these

holes don’t close.

*

Dodging all the coughs,

all the sneezes,

thinking I am sly; I could pay the bills

when I am not ill.

*

But life don’t care

when your nose goes:

drying out,

growing damp,

and dripping now.

It keeps you in bed;

it keeps you stagnant.

*

Then the currency won’t flow,

the economy won’t grow.

*

So to avoid a drought,

you’ve got to buy that Lemsip,

but it’s too…

You will lose anyway.

Only a matter of time,

before the next dam

caves.