Wasted

Sitting on the curb that night

the waiting angel wouldn’t show

liquor burning up the throat to heaven

Wasted, all the days are faded now,

To one softened swell of photographic blur

Some high to see the rest as you

Or to forget about you.

As lips drag soft on burning paper

leave red, light-printed on the filter

and arms bared warm the wetted sill

the curls like veils coil up the dark

The window out lets heat and glow,

and gentle rise and falling, snores and whimpers,

From the bed escape the night.

To think, an instant, all of it’s enough

Not much a price to pay, it is

In fevered dreams that come

Prophetic sights,

The unifying end of seeking