Dawn
Rimmed with red,
the sky emerges
from an alcoholic haze,
collapses on the shoulder of a hill.
As thin-lipped
as the letter box,
I brush a broken bottle
from the driveway:
shards of glass
that tinkle on the tarmac,
sharp as laughter
in an empty room.
First published in Bravado, New Zealand
Copyright © Alan Ireland | Year Posted 2024
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