Going by Liam Wilkinson

It took all day to get going.

I spent the morning off
like an antiquated fax machine.
You prodded me occasionally,

kicked me, checked I was still breathing.
But all you got back
was a flashing yellow light.

The manual says I need calibrating.
You think I need replacing
with a newer, quicker model.

One without the flashing yellow light.

by Liam Wilkinson

Other poems by 'Liam Wilkinson'

Back Bedroom Baroque

The Execution

Election Day Campaign

Our Four Months

The Lunatic

Return To The Esplande

Welcome Here


On The Map

On Blake Street

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