The blinding argumentative glare

of darkness rolls in

at around four in the morning

and it rolls

its tongue, it slavers

and slurs, it begs and it stains

with insult, it disdains and pours

scorn on the eyes, as the narrow focus

of mock slit readiness

is installed

like a sergeant on parade

who first gets a sense of deviant

gratification at the prospect of pissing

down someone’s ear, of making them squirm

for having the audacity of sleeping till four

in the morning when they should

be alert…

 

This argument is won,

however it is I who

pisses down the nose with steaming

accuracy of nature’s clock,

for I am ready, I have been all night

and my weapon,

armed, cocked and loaded

with keyboard instruction

is primed, polished

to see the

expectation, the desire of the day

beaten again.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015