FAULTY GOODS - Poem by Margaret Wilde

Faulty Goods

If this were to be
The Real Life:
This moving, breathing being,
Which seems to be,
The Real Me;
Then would I think
As now I do:
“They must have given My Life
To someone else.
It isn’t here”?

Whom do I sue?

“Under the Trade Descriptions Act
This Life
Has proved unsuitable for its purpose.”


Margaret Wilde © 2009