sunk sofa sat scribe, reminiscing
last night there was a tribe
i didn’t know they were just passing thru
one young lady let me let go of my grief
she told me: everything passes, pulled out
a pamphlet of my poems
how i had so much to say
now i’m trying to decipher some hidden meaning
in my tinnitus, the floor is stained
with happy vomit, teardrops of wine
i’m staring at an empty page,
wondering if i’ll ever write again,
if i’ll ever be the same
how you held me, how i held you
which of us flinched first
which of us thought we were dreaming
who pinched who, which of us was
there was a boat moored on the river
now it’s not, the space it left
much larger than the space it occupied
and people are jogging, cycling, rowing
as if we all must carry on
as the winos and the junkies and the poets
pick up their crutches, say if we must
About the Author:
Simon Alderwick lives in Oxford, UK. His pamphlet “ways to say we’re not alone” is available from Broken Sleep Books.
