Tomorrow

Elaine Speakman

Tomorrow
I will
Change the bed.
Clean the cooker
Do the cupboards out
Tomorrow I tell myself
I will be over this
It’s just exhaustion
From thinking too much
So I lie comatose
Dreaming, what I’ll do Tomorrow
But my Tomorrow may not be
Your tomorrow
It just means any day but this
So excuse me if you come tomorrow
And wonder at my idleness
In the midst of crumpled sheets.

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