The Party

Start by squatting
in an upstairs room
unfurnished, bare floorboards
the music from below
a swaddled thumping.

They’ll locate you
at some point;
that’s what your iPod’s for.

You might clamber onto
the extension roof
lights from close buildings
like refuge points
in the cold night.

Soon your teeth start going.
A guy calls to know
what you’re doing.

In the garden
they’re all dancing.
They keep near the house
away from the dark hedgerow
and silent elm.

Downstairs you find
a soft chair.
The storm has abated
here, abandoned bottles
piled ashtrays
the air thick and
wine-spiced

till a girl buzzes in
turns the CD player
right up - Beyoncé
All I Could Do Was Cry.

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Twitter: @ianjmclachlan
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