Ian Mullins – 2 poems 

Laura’s Room


It’s cold in Laura’s room.

The curtains are drawn, but there

is no window behind them,

only the shapes of bricks

drawn by hand on the wall.

No carpets; only a handful

of dirty rags festering on dry boards,

where you find comfort

how you may. You study

the art of waiting when no-one

is expecting your call.

Nothing can be read

in the few simple stains

high on the four plain walls.

No furniture need comfort you,

no light need detain you.

You enter the same way a fly

enters an empty bottle, in Summer,

perhaps from hunger

or curiosity, or restless after a thaw.

It should be quite simple

to fly your way out, should flight

be needed. The door is never locked

when Laura leaves the room.


🍃


21


She’s 21

looks good naked

got a boyfriend/girlfriend

sex when she wants it

says she’s going to Australia soon

maybe take the bus

work for an hour or two

sleep on the beach

naked under stars

naked as she

drink down the years

shower under a waterfall

grow fat like a walrus

have three or four kids

she’ll never see again

collect men like syringes

die on the beach

in the middle of summer

says you don’t have to bury me

just fold me away

I’m 21;

forget about the rest.


🍃


Ian Mullins bails out from Liverpool England. His collection Laughter In The Shape Of A Guitar was published by UB (undergroundbooks.net) in 2015. He has published poems and stories with Purple Patch, Neon, The Journal, Mad Swirl, Clutching At Straws, Hellfire Crossroads, The Literary Hatchet and many more.

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