I threw a party. Nobody turned up
And all went much as usual. The booze
Ran out. The neighbours called the cops. Much glass
Was broken. Vomit clogged the loo. I fell
Asleep on the stairs. Nobody picked me up
And gently carried me to bed and tucked
Me up. A sexual act of sorts took place,
Which nobody enjoyed, I think, and time
Went on, the way it does, and on, and on.

And all this rounded earth is just a pit
In which we infants play with dirty sand
And hurl it at each other, and construct
Our show-off castles, which will crumble, fall,
And be raked over, vanishing
As though we'd never once existed here.

Wayne Carvosso

If you've any comments on this poem, Wayne Carvosso would be pleased to hear from you.