Lifeboat

Nah – wasn’t right.

We were the drunk in the lone stiletto/ staggering from last/ orders.

Were poor origami – a rose in the guise of a/ crumpled heap/ A paper fist/ scratching up against its own/ sharp corners/ for comfort.

Was ashtray – me- open dish/ enabling/ permitting/ stubbing yourself out on me/ (freebie)/ after each deep toke/ and the smoke would billow/ up/ like a ghost in the guise of/ (you know who).

Clung on/ still/ village idiot humping/ the leg of a statue/ bee in Autumn/ still kidding itself for pollen/ killing itself for the lasts// Lost nothing.

Was a lyric somewhere

Echo

Stroke of paint

Vocal

Broken bass drum bleating

A bottle washing up on the shore/ vacant/ no note/ no ship/ nothing/ but litter.

Read into it whatever you must,

But just what does a lifeboat cling to when

It goes down

Itself?