When I was drinking I
was as a ship that had wandered beneath a stormy ebon moon—
In the morning, a disastrous sun bent sailor.
When fully awake from the night’s drunk, my head
lay heaving. My temples like oaks, and my heart tremulous.
Forgetting all, save, I could not dream, if indeed
I did?
I do recall how I became an unfeeling shadow,
drinking beer to beer to beer, cigarettes one after another, as my mind went
from realms to zones on stools in sour-smoky bars.
They were all windless evenings, repeated. One not
so unlike the other: with perilous eyes of sleep.
I sought to fathom the gulf-enclosing earth, in a
swirling gloom.
#5285/6-17-2016
Note: the author has been sober for 32-years.
By Dennis L. Siluk, Dr. H.c. (Poet Laureate)
Copyright © 6-2016