The Kitchen Stool

I’ve lost my footing
since I swapped the office
for a kitchen stool.

Each morning,
legs swinging,
my laptop slow-ploughs
another day’s hoarded gathering
of children’s benchtop treasures –
corks,
cheese wax,
paper clips,
cooking-string-things,
some more (too many?) corks.

There’s room to work now
but small room to think.
Oh, to walk beside a friend,
to test and wrest ideas for real,
not mis-interp-errupt
in online farcing,
nor submit compliant
like some you-do ghost
by close of business.

I’ve lost all feeling
beyond my spreading waist
for this kitchen stool.
I do my best to re-posture
some semblance of norm –
the same ache still niggles:
We need to walk
and you…
you need to talk.

Nicholas Perkins lives in Sydney. He works in education and has been a primary school principal, with a background that crosses the arts, neuroscience and behavioural ecology. His poems have appeared in various online publications, including InDaily’s Poet’s Corner and The Rye Whiskey Review.

Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. Submissions should be in the body of the email, not as attachments. A poetry book will be awarded to each accepted contributor.