Collapse with him slowly
As his neck seizes up
To the sound of spent dreaming,
All ghost talk and loose tongues,
Money worries and wine.
He’s a dog in a playground,
Its leash round one leg,
The spent force of well wishers,
A scrambled egg
Moon.
We spoon fed them love
Then laughed at their longing lips
All wanton and wet
Wind blew the shimmering leaves
Caught under street lights
And morphing the rain,
The kind of calm hid
In the eye of a storm,
And for those who found life
Just a collection of heart beats
The gutters filled high
And spluttered mistakes.
Slacker Shack
Dunstan Carter : Poetry 