Small hours chat
(after The Poet or Half-past Three by Marc Chagall 1911-12)
O celebrated bard, you should know
espresso mixed with drags of Gauloise
won’t steady your head. Your pondweed face
betrays chaos, lays bare a wretched heart,
while cubist-dissected skin distracts
from your muse’s flow. You know,
we cats perceive a thousand truths
humans fail to appreciate. Here are three
thoughts for today: there is a direct correlation
between erasure lines in poetry notebooks
and how much white space
fills the top of a vodka bottle.
The fish you just ate was my dinner.
Third, we choose our own poison.
Christian Donovan lives in Pembrokeshire. Last year she retired as a guide at Carew Castle. She used to be a tutor of Welsh, and has only recently started submitting poems.