Distraction

Distraction

She traces her fingertips

Across the bronzed, accentuated curves

Of her neighbour’s face.

As the minutes click, time slips,

She loses awareness of place

In her inappropriate words.

She thinks I haven’t heard.

He runs the earphone leads

Around his unfocused, absent hands,

Imagining sounds.

Time ticks, the minutes flip,

And when he doesn’t understand

His excuse has no grounds.

I am lost for words.

Years into weeks, time breaks and bleeds.

The exams hover like angry bees,

Waiting to strike.

And I’m waiting for them

One by one, to strengthen their defence,

Get off the fence, and run.

My will alone can’t get this done.

Jennifer Pickup (3^rd April, 2017).