A Prayer
The day’s excess leaks from recesses
Of bones and punctured consciousness;
Minds, overflowing, soak up dust,
Expunging it at the day’s burst end.
If, draining outwards, I should falter,
Let these faint words staunch the flow;
Let this vapour prayer waft upwards;
Let it mix with air and wine
As I drift, awash in myself,
You, my harbour and my storm.
The Consolations of Writing 