spent

When the lord asks me what I did with my life I will say

I spent it rearranging a delivery,

on hold to Nat West,

stood in the queue at the Post Office wondering why people aren’t more efficient with their packing,

ordering disposable cups,

looking for something that will remain lost,

and contemplating how you actually lose a single shoe.

I will say I spent it picking up the same toys and treading on the same Lego pieces,

basting 600 chickens,

making small talk at weddings,

forgetting how to spell diarrhoea,

and looking around breast care clinics wondering who is unlucky today.

I will say I spent it face down in the thrill of someone new,

and upside down in the terror of being only myself,

knee-deep in the friendship that looks you dead in the eye,

and up to my eyes and teeth in sorrow.

I will proclaim that I passed my time making picky bits for tea,

burning my forearm on the oven,

googling symptoms,

tying my laces,

anticipating problems that will never arrive,

and thinking I am actually quite a good singer when no one is listening.

When the lord asks me what I did with my life

I will say I filled in direct debit forms,

signed waivers,

ate tomatoes straight from the fridge,

caught one fish,

and howled at no moons.

I will tell him I spent it unlocking my bike,

getting up when I had just sat down,

saying sorry as I squeeze past people in seating banks,

saying for fuck’s sake,

and failing to realise that that was the last time we would ever do that together.

I will say I spent it kneeling, supine, suspended, hunched, splayed, and proud.

I will say I spent it alone and with you.

I will say I spent it whispered, hollered, plaintive, shrill.

I will say I spent it here, underneath, and in plain sight.

I will say I spent it wisely, recklessly, and not enough.

I will say I spent it as best I could.

As best as I could.