in the throes of booze

in the clutches
of a great distress
it falls upon me
like some nightress -

voices
hushed in whispers
like a wanning breeze
at noon

the mast is erect
the sail's in tatters
the rudder is strong
in the high-run tide
at dusk

dreams linger
no longer than nightime,
sleep
no longer than
a breath unconscious

my love lies
in forgetfulness
like memories
long-bereft

I cannot recall the last
time we spoke truth
in the throes of booze

yet fondness pervades me
makes proud
this ego
well-bruised, well-learned
in life's gamming

a spade is a spade
and a queen is a king;
there are no bounds
to what
pleasure brings,

even in freedom
we find slavery,
a way to be -
different from the way
we are

and for that
this offering arises
like the luke-warm
sunrise of spring