kevin brady

SECRET STASHES

The life sought is poured through

stages of drunkenness, picture perfect.

The kids dictate, the night ritual

 "we're on the duvet" the room is warm

the room is theirs.  Prowling the house

for secret stashes. 

"why not say what happened"

there is only the hush of sleep

 and the breath of the fire

 of life ebbing. we find him

on the sofa again the pain

evident his right arm flung

out sweeping away

demons, reality.