Sick at 6 & sick again at 9 <br />was Henry's gloomy Monday morning oh. <br />Still he had to lecture. <br />They waited, his little children, for stricken Henry <br />to rise up yet once more again and come oh. <br />They figured he was a fixture, <br /> <br />nuts to their bolds, keys to their bloody locks. <br />One day the whole affair will fall apart <br />with a rustle of fire, <br />a wrestle of undoing, as of tossed clocks, <br />and somewhere not far off a broken heart <br />for hire. <br /> <br />He had smoked a pack of cigarettes by 10 <br />& was ready to go. Peace to his ashes then, <br />poor Henry, <br />with all this gas & shit blowing through it <br />four times in 2 hours, his tail ached. <br />He arose, benign, & performed.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-134-sick-at-6-sick-again-at-9/
