DAY ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN – Christie Williamson

Keep your head up, keep kicking, don’t drown

So your KPIs have slipped below your basic SLA again
and that nice chat we had doesn’t seem to have done
the dirty dick, so you see, these hands of mine are tied today,
you’ve left me with no choice but to implement
a KYA, with the possible escalation without immediate results
to a MYLAFM. Make no mistake, my boy I’m watching you
like a hungry hawk with a new prescription who’s eating
for half a dozen. In other words, the bizzo will continue
working to support your absolute commitment at a Mind
Body Soul kind of level to saving my comfortably proportioned
posterior. Don’t say we don’t spare a thought for posterity.
As you know, our input to credit and credit like decisions
is widely sought, and you my boy have long since kissed goodbye
to your AAA days. What’s more, my innumerate fag from the best
days of my life is running this country’s economy, so you get
to bow before the ground I walk on, until your vertebrae link up
at least, but for now it’s time for me to do the talking
and you to put one foot in front of the other, so get your arse out
of my sight and get back to your work and don’t make me speak
to you like that again because whatever you might think
I don’t like it, does no good for my little problems, and we’ve both
got far better things to do with our time than listen to me
opening my mouth and letting my hungry guts rumble.



Christie Williamson is a poet from Yell in Shetland, currently residing in Glasgow. His debut pamphlet, Arc o Möns was joint winner of the Calum MacDonald Memorial Award 2010. Oo an Feddirs, his first full length collection was published in 2015 by Luath Press.


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