151 – A Little Drunk

A Little Drunk

It’s late. I’m a little drunk
and spooling out
a poem at the eleventh hour.
Tomorrow’s lark will come
too early. The cat’s keening
I’ll bat at absently. What rising
will happen when we come to it.
Now a brief unbuckling
of words, a waking dream
blurred a little longer.

(d)

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