Almost Sober

Drink kept by the bedside would not rot, Critical of the routine, banging on the door, Demanding a day in all the light-wide awake, Embracing the axe and work around the woods, Cut in half- building from the bitter bark, Pain makes the body succumb to it often, Making way for alcohol to ease it, Surrounded, should the shrubs shush it? Holding the remedy for a man idle as window pane, Brimming with rum full to the neck. Beating to it the shallow fried freshly caught tuna, Play wanting no rest to let him redeem, Past the river’s vigor and platonic valley, No friends waited for the man with the axe, Seeking his company or a word to share, Peg by peg as the bitter liquid submerged his body, Within lied the periphery of the garden, Woods in the vicinity that he would sink in, Own company made him drown or swim, Gathering the chunks of wood by himself, Lit them on fire with the wind starting to pick, Sold the rest of the bundles in a market nearby, Bought whiskey that kept him warm on a cold night.