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‘Another night. Another day’ – a poem about panic

flowers in the cloister

Another night. Acid reflux,
The retching return of fights and flights,
“Hello mate, how’re you doing?”
Half forgotten.

They switched the electric heater on
When I was sick: one molten bar.
“Shit, no way, you’re joking right?”
It glowed in the blackness.

Panic blossoms, invades my breath.
Iodine stung my bleeding knee.
“Can’t do it mate, I’m busy.”
It stained me yellow.

In the cloister, there were sweet violets
By the antic arch to the secret garden.
“All right, cheers mate.”
Now the way is lost.

The darkness dilutes into the dawn,
Which brings a different tyranny.
“That was a fucking waste of time.”
Another day.




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