A Drunken Poet

By Gouthami

Driving home
to a lonely bed,
longing, in every bone.
The radio spews out
songs of love and lust.

I can no longer tell the difference.
A turtle crosses the road,
taking its time.

I wait,
reading its trail
as it drags its flippers.


Thoughts swirl in my head,
making their own trails.
The turtle crosses safely.
Driving on,

alcohol slurring my speed,
I brush aside these tangents
and decide

to reach safely
to my lonely bed.

April 2018


Gouthami has been writing since she can remember. She currently lives in Pomburpa in North Goa. The natural beauty and interesting people she meets there inspires much of her recent writing, which includes short stories and poetry. To follow her blog, click here.