I unzip the tent flap in the small hours -
that narrow business-like sound -
and climb out into damp night.
Squatting on the grass in the dark,
the wind off the sea cooling my buttocks,
the stars are enormous blurred balls of light,
heavy, pulling down a soft blanket of sky.
2 comments:
Ah, glad to meet another contributor to the sadly neglected genre of poems about taking a leak under the stars! Good one.
:~) really very evocative!
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