Werner is not unconscious
from drugs and liquor,
he’s past it
and a white ambulance
arrives with a flashing
red light.
He lies on the ground
in his own vomit
and urine
that lays yellow, orange and white
around him
and empty dark brown beer bottles
and a bottle of Johnny Walker
is broken
and the glass
stabs into his arm
and the man
on the label
walks past him
and blowflies
are everywhere on him
and a pot pipe
clings with vomit
to his mouth.
There’s an injection
with the needle
still in his vain
and his eyes are big and grey
and empty without life
while his right hand
clutches a guitar
as if he’s thinking
about the next chord
and there’s tiredness
and emptiness on his face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem