don't miss the last train

( a poem )

Then, I’d wake with syrupy liquor on my lips,

kept naked flames at a distance.

Didn’t bathe, didn’t eat,

curtains covered grey, frost-bitten trees.

Try again – it might be different tonight?

                       (ha, yeah right.)

Sip, chug, ‘swing from the chandelier!’ screams Sia.

Swallow, wallow.

One last dance and I’ll leave this party;

lose my way, miss the last train.

Then someone tells me to wait.

Hold on, ahead are better days.

                              *

Now I wake to clean teeth and sheets,

little arms outstretched, voices that squeak.

Here there’s hope, light and heat,

fruit and seeds.