Monday, 5 June 2017

the size of a box, 5/June/17

I'm building a box
a small box
made out of cardboard, it's the best I can afford,
it will be big enough for me to sit,
to stand up, lie down, curl up, spin 'round
(if I chose to do)
there won't be room for anyone else
why would there be,
I wouldn't be good company especially in a box
a cardboard box at that,
there'll be a door
in fact flaps that could open so
four that fold and unfold one over the other
but windows none,
boxes don't have boxes even cardboard ones at that,
once I'm in I'll not come out
and if I do then I'll make sure that no one is about
not a soul
nor passer-by
rubber-necking or wondering why
and soon enough I will be back inside my cardboard box,
door/ flaps closed, sitting, standing, lying down or curled-up in a ball,
it surely must make sense
as thus equations go:
the size of this my aimless life is equal to that of a cardboard box;
just big enough to stand up, lie down, curl up, spin 'round
(if I chose to do)
my one and only fear is if
a fly might fly inside
annoyingly they find their way so easily within
to find they made no plan or factored in a clean escape,
maybe I should hang a sign with letters big and bold
reading 'EXIT' just inside the door just in case,
just in case a fly should happen by,
being sure to write it both
in English and in flyish
so then the fly will clearly
which way it should go,
so if want to find me I'll be here in this cardboard box
although I hope I can't be found
it's best I'm left alone
alone inside the cardboard box forever and a day,
there's no place for me outside here
no purpose, point, nor function,
no reason for my being so
it's best I'm safely tucked away
inside my cardboard world,
just big enough to stand up, lie down, curl up, spin 'round
(if I chose to do)
as everything I am and was,
had been and never will be would be
soon enough just sloughed away
so inside I should stay
never seen and never heard
out of sight
and out of mind
and lost inside my words.

(don't go looking too close thinking
somewhere there's a rhyme
you'll surely find it hard to find
while combing through each line
and soon you'll be frustrated thinking,
what a waste of time)


© robert greig 2017

1 comment:

Martin Kloess said...

Well done. Only a good poem, I hope.