it's getting late
it's half-past friends and i decided to change my life.
i've started seeing motorcycles
and licking cream from bottletops in hopes
all things shall be revealed that have been hid
and all my friends will be talking about this
fem-centric raunchfest streaming tonight
while the wet dew-diamonds the grass
and the sky-blue sky is awash in angels
and inside this one blue raindrop i will etch
teach me to die and not accomplish
tears at my funeral along the spillway,
some sad sin-eater sat in an atrocity of sunlight.
it's getting late and i have wasted a life
as now a vesper moon turns the lake to milk
and hidest thou thy face. . . and so forth. . .
in the botched dark where a moth incandescents
itself, oh see its red eyes become the light!
____________
Rob McClure's work has appeared most recently in Poetry Scotland, New Writing Scotland, Lallans and Light. He is the author of The Violence (Queen's Ferry Press, 2018) and The Scotsman (Black Springs Press, 2024).
This poem was chosen by Anthropocene Guest Editor HLR.
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