Saturday 18 May 2013

Night Owl

Andrew, even as a young man,
leaves on his bedroom light;

brightly artificial
with an open door.

It’s not that light dispels 
shadows or ghosts. No, no,

it’s to illuminate a way out
and wobble for toilet relief.

I, an older man, holding onto courage
know how darkness has wasted me,
yawning like a zero

with deep sleep a matter of
snoring and lost opportunity

until, eventually, the fuss will be over,
word and wobble.
Last orders.
Lights out.

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