Her hair
is perfect.
She's just
having a bad body day.
Feeling fragile
after yet another skin-full
bit the worse
for wear
(here...but not...all there) .
Feels a bit like France's
Charlesl the 6th
(aka Charles the Mad)
suffering the same
delusion as he did
that he was made
of glass.
Feels she should do as he did
(sew iron bars into his clothes)
to prevent himself
from shattering if he fell.
Never (she promises herself) never
ever again.
Her love affair with alcohol
is over.
She, determinded to be
sober....ouch...sooner
rather than later.
But, right now
there remains
this half drunk
(here we go again)
bottle of wine.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-got-the-charles-the-sixth-blues/
