Under the Drunkard’s Foggy Watch by Grant Tarbard

In the cupboard under the stairs I view
idle houses drawn with a shaking hand.
All the town is here under the sun on
a daffodil’s stalk. At the sun’s heart is
a seed head that blackens all the children’s
faces with shadow. My eyes shine with a
embrace of pebbles lifting the timbers
of these slow houses, these drooping houses
dripping with loose particles of sorrow
that flavour the oceans with aftershave,
that spill ink on your helter skelter sheets,
that create the canopy of dancing
swans projected onto heavens eyelid.
All’s well under the drunkard’s foggy watch.

Loneliness is the Machine that Drives the World

Grant Tarbard is internationally published. His collection As I Was Pulled Under the Earth, published by Lapwing Publications, is available now.


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