Late Night (a blues poem)                                                                         back to poetry page

Short whiskey glass.
Ice cube gone to water,
the gold low. Wall clock
ticks hard. One thin cigarette
and a quick gulp-gasp. Bed.

In its stand, the guitar's hip
still warm.





Click here to view photos of this poem on display in Urbis exhibition centre (Manchester city centre)

'Late Night' was published in Issue 46 (Sep 06) of Pulsar magazine.




© 2006 Seán Dagan Wood

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