What a day—a series of small blunders, all of them my fault. Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit drinking…

The war is long over
but the mistakes
continue to compound
to the point where nobody
nobody knows
where it really stands

There may be time
to call them back home
but the lines are all busy
and there’s no telling
how long it’ll take
to reach that voice

Until then
the clock will tick
people will talk
confusion will rule the day
histories will be scribbled
by those present

When the sighs of relief
finally come
they will come hard
cheeks will blush
seals will be broken
and drinks poured

(15 September 2017)