A Sunken Home
into a sunken home made of seaweed and
rotten meat—the place where all the people I’ve been
live. They carry out their
lives swimming to the supermarket,
watching late night television while floating
etc. I am forever reminded of
their many eccentricities—always searching for
pity, for grandiosity, for obsequious love. I am
embarrassed by the pretentious hackneyed things
they say—the drugs they dissolve themselves in.
I look at all of them gathered together,
some dumb as apes, and sigh—cutting plastic fence
by Tom Prime
Tom Prime lives in London, Ontario. He has been published in Vallum, Carousel, Ditch, and Stuart Ross's new magazine. He has just been accepted at the University of Victoria for his MFA in Creative Writing (Specializing in Poetry). Many of his poems discuss his experiences working in factories. This poem takes place in a plastic fence factory.
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