The Morning After. {Poem}

I who lived a drunkard’s life used to emerge from soul-darkness each dank morning, surrounded by reeking, spiteful, half-drained cans and bottles. I awoke to sunshine and realized that books lay strewn and piled around my bed, exactly where the detritus of drinking used to scatter. Such irony, and sweet messy blessing! To awake toContinue reading “The Morning After. {Poem}”