Bristol

Someone is whispering

Someone, somewhere is whispering,

blue thoughts to the sharpened night,

leaving words born of the bottle

to shrivel under sleep’s new weight.

Thin syllables drip from bitten lips

moist with gin and clumsy kisses,

and a tongue lolls, slug-like, slurring,

while only the sliced moon listens

to the promises and prayers the night

drags from that full, unguarded heart.

There! Someone is whispering

and your new, cold day has yet to start.