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.