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Alan Morrison

You decided suddenly the need for sleep
Outdid poetry, old spooning Morpheus
Scooping you into a much-needed doze,
A churning mind’s last ditch turn
At escapology through botched overdose:
You wanted to wind your shadowy Odyssey
Into a shamrock world of Irish Shades,
To navigate that vertiginous guilt
You chose of your own accord to don
As a hair-shirt spun by inner-Furies –
The tormented son who had to move on
From frowsty ghosts of a broken home,
Through doss-house, funny farm, to grow
Your mossy shadow in the twisting light
Of a misty future – a spirit’s respite
Shook from pill-bottle, wistful ablution
To be reunited with your otherworldly mother –
That aborted goodbye’s last absolution.



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