The Patron Saint of Drinkers


With this corkscrew from the drawer
you might as well remove your eyes;
lychees dropped on the kitchen lino.
Or maybe puncture through the sternum
and touch the tip against the heart
to elicit a sudden gushing confession.
You’ll have another glass of wine,
but that is hemlock mixed with petrol.
See your friends swimming in the bottle,
packed in tight like pickled chillies,
their faces warped against the glass.
When you’re lighting up a cigarette,
know this: you’re in mortal danger.
A little pyramid of barbecue briquettes
smoulders in your unventilated stomach.


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