Katy Carr
Alsation
With an alsation thirst he straddles the barA thin drink crackling in his clenchWith a fuzz of knuckle and napeHe stops to drink at the sign of the crooked heartThe curtains partThe moon rides up the laneand stains the airAmber eyes bead their directionFrom the dark nook of the hungry stepsHe coughs like a sick hag in a waiting bed of violetHe stops to drink at the sign of the crooked heartThe curtains partThe moon rides up the lane and stains the airDon't stop drinkin' my cupDon't stop the crooked heart
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