I wish I were at some bar in hell
where the whiskey burns
but I’m drunk and I’m dead
and the heat is a charring change
from this place
in the darkest part of the blue
ocean before the dawn
three-sixty degrees of blackish horizon
clutching a shard of floating ice
corners not cutting frozen flesh fast enough
ice not melting fast enough
no ship passing fast enough
to slip and drown
at the centre of the universe
fires to subdue the forfeit
make the numb skin feel again
demon bartender company
(who could cure this soul better?)
and timelessness
bright white timelessness
(Painting by Mark Rothko Green over Blue 1956)
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