I’m waking from the early afternoon,
I watch the trees outside nod with the wind.
I need to go and plead a client soon.
The café radio casts out a tune,
a lover’s plea: Forgive him, he has sinned.
I’m waking from the early afternoon
to reappear and try to staunch the wound
of a life beneath the law now pinned.
I need to go and plead a client soon.
Outside the vagary of testy June,
the sun in pale blue sky, alone and skinned.
I’m waking from the early afternoon,
the taste of sleep now fading. Here, the moon
has come out early, shaking white and thinned.
I need to go and plead a client soon.
The letter of the law reads like a rune.
“This’ll be quick,” the good bailiff grinned.
I’ve wakened from the early afternoon.
My client slumps. He’ll be pleading soon.