He cried
“waste, waste”
when the sun set
as his watch
extended like time
into the small hours
he shouted
in groups, whispered
alone
barked curt
names to silence
canine voices.
it all became
a blind and half-drunk
hypocrisy
with his sermons
delivered naked
at dinner parties
to faces that swim
like salmon, upstream
distorted
he wakes bedded,
naked, his lined face
wallowing
in last night’s
red wine that’s
ruined his pillows
his dinner jacket too,
has battle scars
befitting a regimental do
Author notes
Written March 6th, 2006
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