Tuesday, 12th September 1995

Today drags its muddy feet
and shuffles, beggar-like,
clutching its frail possessions in a plastic bag.

Today I look forward to yesterday,
the end of today's pain - mind-cancer -,
and the beginning of unknown tomorrows.

Today spits in my waking eye,
and promises, dishonestly,
a party bag of bad behaviour, if you can trust it.

Today is a delinquent;
uncaring single parent of tomorrow,
vicious latch-key child of yesterday's neglect.

Today, this day is all I can hold,
sufficient to its own evil,
a long tunnel with no more than the hint of a light.

Today is a bitter herb,
which leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

Kim Helen James
12/9/95