Toban (ten)- 'Under the bridge'

Under the bridge
You will find him there
Mouth pressed into shoulder pressed into scar
Where he feebly tried to cut out
Tattoo of wife's name
But he still finds her scent there

She told him to come to bed early that night
But gin and tonic held broken bottles to his temple
Itallics and green glass solicited from stained windows of the pub
The hostess had a tongue sharper then the darts held in working class callouses
Darts that chase bullseyes and discriminate against black numbers

His hair is the colour of ash
Smouldering ash like the same that he returned home to find
The wayward cigarette
That created a flaming inferno
Flames that whipped his wife and child into oblivion

Under the bridge you will find him there
Tears that flood canal
Brown paper bags for pillow
Copper urn for wife and child