Thursday, 18 October 2007

SHOT NO 9, by Elaine Speakman

In the middle of the night
It came,
Hard and fast
Jolting me out of sleep
To the painful realization
Of being alone,
With the hours
In to the grey emptiness of knowing
That dawn will bring no relief,
Will only gather the clouds of despair
About me,
Maybe the moon tomorrow,
Or the day after,
Or the day after that
Will gently tease me free,
Maybe not,
Maybe the little red pills
That firm my grip on life
Will need to be shaken
From their hiding place
And swallowed.

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