the morning after


the lawyer’s phone call drags him

sour into waking from the endless you-tube

of his trying to forget

the steel bench burning buttocks cold,

his blubbering to the man he loathed

because he needed him, to come

at midnight, to the lock-up;

to forget the fresh-ironed copper

To read more, see ZineWest2016, http://nwg-inc.com/word/?page_id=172