The Shame

Erik Kennedy

The shame adhered like flour on dark trousers:
un-flick-off-able. The shame lay down
along a heated rock and sunned itself
because it could, because the right to bask
is respected in all civilised countries.
The shame ate and ate until it got hungry
again and helped itself—no need to ask!
The shame, at its work-desk, busied itself
from the minute when the lights came on in town
to the hour when the lights went out in houses.