Blind drunk with Southern Comfort
I'm awaiting the Reconstruction
Ground down to a slowed squeal
The tape snaps, a bombed bridge
And flips its loose end
Like an obscene tongue in the nut house
And the moon pulls her rope
And so much of what you were ebbs away
And here you are undraped dramatically like
A painting you discover too late didn’t work
With the sheets torn back and the rest
Sings away down steel blue tracks in
Your head and there is a faint
Impression in the bed
Of a creature that missed the tide
And pulled itself to the bathroom
Where the last of indulgence
Drips on the moon’s porcelain tile
And the soft curled shells ring with
Sounds of the sea, sounds of the oncoming train
The medicine cabinet left open
Avoids reflection
The fevered cheek now pressed to the tile
Cool as mud
And the mouth plies itself into a moony smile
Drunk with grit and sand
Ferns wilt in the eyes
Happy fossil
With a gull in your mouth