My Cistern Chapel

My Cistern Chapel

This incessant noise
of gaming teenage
boys and girls
talking make-up
and break-ups being
stlye-gurus to my wife
(more new shoes)
sends me to our bathroom
(we do not have two loos)
with a book on Latrec for
fifteen minutes of peace
(not that I am anti-Warhol)
in which I read of absinthe
addiction, compare it to my
own prediliction and wonder
if, when I leave this house,
my absence will make
their hearts grow fonder
but only five minutes in
a triple door-rap asks
if I’ll be much longer.
No,I say,

raise my eyes to the ceiling