Drunken Roses
The curtains’ psychedelic pattern
is the only touch of sunshine
in this flat.
Beyond them, two artificial moons
radiate tumours
in the cemented garden
and the city’s carrot bricks
are prison walls
pinching the sky.
Inside, heads drooping,
hunchback roses
recover from a hangover.
This title evokes a still life
or a Baudelaire poem
but lacks his genius.
Julie Irigaray has been published in Southword, Shearsman, Mslexia, and Tears in the Fence. She won third prize in the 2017 Winchester Writers’ Festival Competition and was shortlisted for The Yeovil Prize 2017 and The London Magazine Poetry Prize 2016.