Goodnight by Robert Greacon

Robert Greacon

Goodnight

 

'Half a grain of morphine sulphate, a massive dose, was injected into the sick man by Dr Milton Feltenstein in the Chelsea Hotel, New York. The patient was suffering from actue confusional psychosis.' News Item.

Now a babblement of circles, squares and triangles,
Of roses plural and Rose 's roses with an apostrophe
As Dylan snuggles into the womb of 5 Cwmdonkin Drive
And the solitary mister in the park runs naked
Under the white giant's thighs into a Soho dive
To the marble breasts of a Juno in her summer
As alcohol and morphine overwhelm the brain cells
He sees the blazing hawk hovering over Sir John's Hill
And hears the pebbled stream singing its psalm
To myth-remembering, chapel-haunted, voice-enchanted Wales.
He drifts from madness to twilight to blackness
In a coma as long as a day and forever,
Falls like a heron 's feather into his last goodnight.

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