Ant Smith

All poems

Buried

Buried
Last night I dreamt I was drowning in sand
I have always known this were a treacherous land

There's the lover's laughter at the sight of her man
While the trinkets clatter in the grasp of his hands
And old friends they natter with the spirits that dance
And brothers they badger you had every chance

Who changed the curtains and where are your boots?
Washing lines tangle and you're smothered in suits
Tea is a drug that you've served up in blue cups
And nothing you do will be good enough

The earth it self wants to swallow me up
And bury this body where nobody looks