---

 

This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Sprung from Grief” Down in the Dirt, v184 (the June 2021 Issue) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Lockdown’s Over the Down in the Dirt May-August 2021 issues collection book		get the 420 page May-August 2021 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Regarding Utopia the 2021 poetry, flash fiction, prose, & art collection anthology		get the 396 page poetry, flash fiction, prose, & artwork & photography collection anthology as a 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Spock

Christian Ward

He’s the ideal flatmate: clean, tidy,
never drinks or smokes. Doesn’t get music
but that’s okay. I’ve learnt to stop staring
at his ears in case he grips my neck
and I collapse like laundry on the floor.
Some days, late at night, I hear him muttering
‘Captain, Captain, Captain’ into a shoe
and laugh to myself. Spock, fine as he may be,
doesn’t make for the best company. Everything
has to be logical: call centres, mangoes, even sex.
My girlfriend says he’s a pervert whenever
she’s around, that he leers at her in a strange way,
as if something is trapped under his skin
and he’s desperately trying to get rid of it. Weirdo.
And, if you’re wondering, never talk to him
about poetry. He bloody hates it. You can almost
smell the dactyls bubbling on his tongue
as he drones on, how illogical it is to describe
emotion on paper, before becoming still
like a heron about to dive into the dark of a pond
it has never seen before.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...