after unknown

a change outside and suddenly
noise and light.

empties litter the table,
green wine and red drugs.

O man, March over,
winter once more.
My fortieth: i’m a lobster
out of my shell (out of my head).

a sleeping acquaintance deserted,
a face forgot, naked

/ in the dawn /

these restless houses,
the headlong streets
wild men and beasts
in the shadows.

Image: Serrated Lobster, Cancer Serratus (c. 1793) by James Sowerby via Wikimedia Commons. A mash-up, recomposed from two unknown pieces (don’t ask). And here’s Tom Waits with the waltzing Matilda blues… ‘I’m down on my knees tonight…’