Tight Lacoste polo, Nike shorts,
are teamed with black ankle socks
as if he doesn’t care
what voters think. It’s sunny-side up
for the pap though, clutching a flat white
like a torch, delivering news
of victory. More kids this year than last
at the breakfast club:
dreamy-eyed prospectors, children
panning skimmed milk for golden flakes.
Later, they’ll do homework,
they’ll wait for Mum or Dad to pick them up,
with a cake for their class to share.
Sipping coffee, fair trade, you turn
the pages slowly; grind your own beans,
breakfast like a king.
Jeff Skinner’s poems have been published in the Morning Star, Clear Poetry, Ground Poetry, Poetry Space, Poetry News, Prole, South, Poetry Shed, and on a Guernsey bus. He was commended in last year’s Ver and Poetry Space competitions. He reads occasionally with Exeter Poets Uncut, tweets infrequently.