I Was a Post-Doc Once
by Joel Glover
I was a post-doc once, we all were.
Brimful of youthful audacity
So certain I knew better than most.
I hope I listened better than some.
Brimful of youthful audacity
The team made a terrible mistake
I hope I listened better than some.
Something broke, reality splintered
The team made a terrible mistake
Time twisted around unseen axles
Something broke, reality splintered
I saw every reality break
Time twisted around unseen axles
Trapping me between frozen moments
I saw every reality break
I screamed without anyone to hear
Trapping me between frozen moments
I was a post-doc once, we all were.
I screamed without anyone to hear
So certain I knew better than most.
Joel Glover lives in the woods of Hertfordshire with two boys and one wife. In a house, not a nest. He knows how that sounds. When not herding his two smøls to various extracurricular activities or performing his PowerPoint-related day job functions, he writes and consumes caffeine (black, strong, if you’re asking). His poetry has appeared in Little Old Lady Comedy, Pulp Literary Magazine, and Oddball. Follow him on Twitter (@booksafterbed) for links to work in a variety of lengths, genres, and forms.
