The garden is cool now
the Sun’s rewound her cancer gun,

her rays live in the bladed green
my toes are splashed with whiskey,
the day already sunk, unseen

A cool breeze licks my face
I fumble through my dead bookcase,

each fingered tome their words devoured,
As thunder reigns before the showers.

I won’t sleep, the night awakes me,
the day will spin back round to take me,

I’ll clamber from my slumber
no longer will my dreams encumber,
the words I lay down on the page
come from the space

in which I rage…

the storm passes over and far
to somewhere that you maybe are,

I sit and wait the world to turn
and contemplate my new sunburn.

© Wolfgar 2019