I yearn for a retreat

I yearn for a retreat
from my devices &
my vice of red-eyed
hours – do not wake
me – space spills in
as funnelling sand &
bottles of spilt wine
knocked back in my
bowl-sized cut glass
Instead – pull emptied
tumblers & tall flutes
from breakable lips –
do not kiss thin rims
& try to get shut-eye –
Michael – try to sleep