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William Matthews - The Party
Work rating: Low

I don`t care if nobody 
under forty can hang a door 
properly. I`m six and I`m bored. 
In the kitchen Lavada 
is plucking a turkey 
who looks crumpled 
and turned inside out 
He`s full of holes. 
I throw my skinny arms in the air 
as far as my bones will let them go 
and giggle. It`s ten years to Lavada`s heart 
attack and sixty to mine. 
Black overweight Lavada tucks 
a feather in her hair 
and we dance, her triceps 
wobblillg like charred wattles. We laugh 
until our jawbones sting 
as if we`d drunk mossy 
cold, rust-flecked water 
from the bottom of the well.
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