Well Oiled

We’re drunk and wondering

what the seas makes of us and this.

We’re fluted and imagine angels pissing

blossoms in between the tides.

Summer’s dead, and we admit we’ve killed it.

We held it too close to the fire

while trying to look inside its head.

We knocked over its machinery in our hurry.

That’s correct, we’re pie-eyed, officer.

We’re under the influence

of lightheaded stars and heavy weather.

We drink to remove ourselves.

In the long hall of comings and goings,

we drink and cannot remember.

Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician, is a multiple Pushcart nominee with poems published in hundreds of magazines such as Poetry, Rattle and the North American Review. His books are ‘The So-Called Sonnets (Silenced Press); ‘An Unbecoming Fit Of Frenzy; (Cawing Crow Press) and ‘Like As If” (Pski’s Porch), Hearsay (The Poet’s Haven