Calling in sick
Have you ever called in "sick" when you weren't? Here's a poem from the book "A Sliver of a Chance" by Brian Sankarsingh - reproduced with permission
Ah, the joys of youthful exuberance—those times when we would party all night and get up for work the next morning, only to repeat the next evening. I remember barely sleeping for days on end, between work and play. This poem goes the other way. I am taking a “me” day today.
Morning has broken I’ve not yet awoken For last night’s revelry Was too much devilry With food and wine We all did dine Till the night wore on To inevitable dawn Then I did stumble With a noise and a rumble To bed at last My joy surpassed Now awake, arise I can’t open my eyes Burning both wicks Means I’m now calling in sick
Bio: Brian Sankarsingh is a Trinidadian-born Canadian immigrant who moved to Canada in the 1980s. He describes himself as an accidental poet, with a passion for advocacy and a penchant for prose, an unapologetic style, he offers his poetry as social and political commentary.