On Waking

two men: sitting opposite across a table stare at a common wall, lost deep. fiddling, brothers separate

loss of Rabelaisian appetite,     mourning a drink

Night kneels leaving only the ticking of a cheap, borrowed, alarm-clock

To wake at seven and stretch before river mists cover the view. To yawn as mid-day draws to close: smell of baking bread from an open window

He and it & forgotten, a figment resting on the flick of stone-grey granite chunks     into holes.

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