I am the last barman poet

by amy sharp


Tell me more stories and I'll write them down. In the country there's a tavern I know where poets tend bar. We'll go there someday and make a big wreck of things. You'll have a pocket knife and carve a perfect sentence in the wall while people sing sad songs and lights flicker. I'll trace your words with my finger and ask you why it took you so long to show me the way.