RD ( / )

Brass Monkey

Dog night. Cold bites his butt like a pit bull
And he tosses and turns relentlessly,
Gets up drags his duvet over his dreams
And tops up his electric meter.
Cushioned and commodious is his flat
Yet frost stipple beads on his bed, so he
Steps to the pane to peep at the crack
On its head and it drinks in a draught
Down his neck. He curses for skipping
Double-glazing, tapes the split exorcising
The Demon. Through glass he scans outside,
Night roams the land of Nod -
A car cuts down the zebra's throat
With froth spewing on its sides,
Traffic signals play hopscotch with disco lights
But the dancers left town long ago
With the music. Nothing moves, save blizzard
Brushing out the business of day.
His mind wonders and like a woman changes
With the drifts leaving prints like man Friday
On virgin snow. The landscape hides,
Buildings button up their white cloaks
And the buried church shape-shifts, save for
It's vertical arm reaching for the hand
Of God. A lone pair of boots plods the pavement
And a hooker leaning wearily on
A lamp post fixes fresh bait.
From a laundry clothes like some sheeted specter
Hover hauntingly as winds mouthing in
Resurrecting drift, blow smokily.
Now the pit bull growls and rattles
Window-frame searching…
Frost heaving of piles paints the panes pewter
And captive in his cell of darkness, he stares
At wings of white aimlessly. His thoughts run round
The bitter cold with earth hard as horns,
Then he falls comforted in a downy quilt.

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