down the drain

down the drain by Phil Burns

Click here to hear the poet read his words:

down the drain

the picture on the wall shows people leaping
from the cliffs into the waters far below
you hope to stay wrapped in my arms till morning
but fear the clock hands move round far too slow

I hear you call my name from through the doorway
where I find boxes scattered on the floor
I see your head and shoulder weeping in the first one
I am now afraid to look in any more

the back stairs appear to lead upwards to nowhere
the main staircase is well lit and very wide
when I get to the top I am still puzzled
I know my room is on the other side

the bottles on the shelf are almost empty
I have no desire to sample them again
I wonder what effect they have upon our memories
but I forget to pour the contents down the drain

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5 Responses to down the drain

  1. xcomart says:

    Think the words match the sadness of the sketch


  2. colonialist says:

    Uh . . . What was that, again?


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