stephen oliver

Dylan Thomas

A frothy moon and planets wagon deep
As lights slowly lifted on Brown¹s Hotel
And Dylan leaning there over an ale,
Eyes black as coal from an eternal sleep.

"Listen," he said, "Some soberly advice,
Heavy liquor¹s for the screaming banshees
Avoid the depth charge of double whiskies,
Essentially, it¹s a matter of price."

The vision faded out to closing time
And the hours peddled a bike down the lane,
The sound of glasses and talk receded.

Awakened now by warblings of a plane
Through embankments of cloud into sunshine,
I thought of his tours, how Caitlin pleaded.