My glass

is centre stage

I reach for the bottle

& they watch the pour

couple of inches

some atavistic rite

libation to the gods

in the spill

as we settle again

& I speak into the silence

the Spanish civil war

has separate state roots

that go back into the ages

& if we forget that

then we lose understanding

of why

when people

are forced together

this creates revolutions

anarchy

mortal woundings

& bitterness

that crosses the centuries

I see them nodding

& go for the kill

that is why

my love life is a ruin

I have poor relationships…

& they smile

& I wonder

is it for the glass

or its contents?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s