I let out a fart
that squealed
loud enough
to pull me from
slumber
and smelled
of death
in the air
of foreign countries,
I rose
with eyes-
hardly-open
wrinkled with
almost-too-
much age
to warrant
dying young
with the good,
my blank stare
laid through
the filth in the air
and into the shadows
slapped against
the floor,
my back bright-
in-overhead-light;
I thought of
a cellar where
the devil kept
souls too-
tarnished-for-
resale,
alike the palms
and armpits
of greedy
women
and the endless
cracks along
gutter-
ground,
I flipped the
light-switch
and sprawled
out in dark,
like the corpse
of a sinner;
beckoning
rest,
and it's times
like this
my life
drags
slow-past
my eyes,
sober
as a fox
and nowhere
to drown-
me-out
aside from
the sleep
that takes
it's sweet-
time coming
and in the
death
I've earned-
early.
Eric Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-air-cleared-before-my-mind-could/
