Killing Time

An abstract poem, a signature, a list of names by the door. So many hands to shake, such a waste to spend the evening like this.

Image Credit: 
© 2016 Flash Totty / Used With Permission

sign the guest list on my way through the door
some vague preparation for drilling fine
the rest of my rehearsal

Ann I hate
she always turns up two hours early
empty conversation and killing time
it’s not like she could just

remember to bring enough shots for everyone
dead end situation but filling mine
metal shape in the hand

A nihilist
clocks count me down but I smile at the others
final culmination with willing lies
my eye contact

Anon I list
all is still now as the party is finally over
wasted expectation a thrilling ride
the name I gave

Seb Reilly is a writer, fiction author and occasional musician. He lives by the sea in Thanet, Kent, with his family and two cats.

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