Dyna Ryan


He spoke to lampposts,
in lines of stuttered poems
and tooth fractured prose.
He hugged them close
and begged their support.

Argued with neon signs
and yellow gibbous moons
as he stumbled home.
The dark lonely road
to a bachelor’s bed

A caricature
of a four legged man,
a crippled alcoholic
with two rigid pegs
and aluminium arms.

He wielded grey blue steel
with the zeal of a priest.
Bet brazen brats from ditches
and hussies from under
hawthorn hedges.

He broke his bastard back
when Sunday drunk. (of course)
Mistook a moving car
as stationary
in the blow and bluster
of a wild winter gale

He wrote his life story
all across a wet
and grimy country road,
blood and skin and balance

rough rubble tore flesh
from his nose and cheeks,
his spine left its rigidity
on the hood of a wreck.

he became a doll
a trembling marionette
A puppet on strings,
dancing and jerking.

His lifeless legs retained
the muscle memory,
bipedal ambulation,
the sensation of feet
on concrete.

He ran in his sleep.
Quivered in his nightmares
when delirium tremors
kept him wide awake

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