DRUNK

I don’t sleep until I’ve drunk
all the wine to sea level
until I’ve come down
from the mountain
alighted on a limb
I don’t sleep easily when
I refuse to give in
secret lives make me hunger
for rare is the time
a story is realized
without the wine
when it comes, this sleep
this battle I’ve waged
silence reacts like
a dream uncaged
sober, I wake to what
the muse demands
sober, I write while
the cats eye the day
we miss you, they whine
in the creeping night
your drunken unburdening
your nail-biting ride
to a story you’ve
unearthed at the bottom of a glass
while we sleep in the daylight
and you are free at last
a paw needs licking
a head needs kissing
the rule book’s in place
and as she ages
they give her the floor
write a story, they say
until you can’t anymore
we’ll carry on leaping in
late night intent
while you carry on making
your way to repent
tomorrow is always a fickle thing
bravado or Zen is challenging
the secret of life
are cows not so far
from the writer
we trust or we don’t anymore
it’s the path we’d rather
a sober collective or
a bloody bother
I don’t sleep until
I contact the courier
I don’t sleep until
I drink the blood of the warrior