There will be no nightmares to threaten me with a troop of teeth.
No shadows that cling onto walls & heighten all I fear.
Tonight, the flesh acknowledges its episodes of panic.
How often it has bred a populace of anxieties & silenced
the aftermath. I uncork a Jack Daniel’s, nearly fill
a glass, address the glass with an interest that only
a pair of hungry eyes can afford. A gulp unhusks
a sting that follows a thunder which rocks the base
of my throat. So much agony housed in one’s bloodstream.
Later, the tongue aided by practise will grow a shell
as I drink to what’s with me, this crisp moment of loneliness.
I remember that I’m entitled to a session with God but imagine
if he ever entertains visitors in the courtyard that the sky carries.
To pray or turn to pretence, a Tigris of indecision awaits crossing.
This poem first appeared in Drunk Monkeys and is republished with permission from the author.
* Photo by Thomas Park on Unsplash