Writing from the stemistry lab
The wheel of fortune
by Stevie Ronnie
spins on Saturday night. A lady
wearing gold and a uniform of tan
stands (or is it time slowing down).
Cut to contestant praying hands to chin
and man-dog the nodding presenter.
Lying by four bar fire (two bars on)
jeans burn the back of my knees
and nana’s there in her recliner,
the paper beside her turned bingo,
the school blue dictionary on top of it.
She looks at me too and swings
me a laugh as the applause gets louder
and the clicking of the wheel –
I can’t remember whether this was before
or after the oxygen apparatus.