Day Thirty: 'A Bare Bedroom With Two People' by Laurie Bolger

'A Bare Bedroom With Two People'

Twenty and afraid of silences,

I chat mindless babble

when scanning your book-shelves

for clues of you – a comment

for every single one.

I sip rum laced with ginger ale;

we will sit and drink, wait until

one half gives in.

This isn’t when the room stands still,

or when music starts as time stops.

“Do you want another drink?” he asks,

and removes the glass from my hand.

These are those invisible drinking cords

that fasten us together after

a few too many.

I don’t know you that well –

so I sit and talk.

I play with one button on my cardigan

that’s come away, and hangs there

on its thread.

Laurie Bolger