HANGOVER
QUILLS
I am
very hungover today
And I
will work on poetry
I
read your poems Pooja Nansi
And
they reminded me of
A
time when I wore a broken
Healing
wretched heart
Like
a pin on my lapel
Men I
couldn’t really tell
Apart
fell in to my lap
Like
drink spills, I
Didn’t
really miss them
When
they’d gone
*
I
woke up with no recollection of how and why
Top
half still on (bra and all)
Bottom
half relegated to the floor
Lamps
still on and bright white light
Flooding
in from the window and at first
You’re
numb from the truth which is
Oh
no. It’s daylight and last night I drank too much.
Then
it’s the dread of what happens next
If I
move? And then it’s some odd recurring thought patterns
That
flit in and out of dreams or delusions or both;
I am
at a training camp where you must raise your hand
And share
with the faceless class an occasion of
Heartbreak
and humiliation
No
body makes to move so I raise my hand and yell
Quite
loudly – a time I waited for someone who never came
I get
some nods of approval
I
wake and I crawl to fill my glass with water and
Sup
and wait and set my alarm to be back again
At
that camp but it’s an assault course this time
In
the dimmed dark, it’s wet like Scotland outside
Inside
my friends are climbing walls and it feels
Ominous.
The one I love has an accident, grisly
Head
splits open and comes to sit by me
And I
look at his smashed skull with brain bits but his face
Still
looks fine to me and I need to wake up before
I am sick
with horror and dread and fear of it all
It’s
a dream you sick sad fuck
*
I
will sleep on my desk
As
the ticker tape rolls
As
the typewriter clicks
And
flags wave for goals
