WAKING SEIZURE

I can taste blood. This headache

is worse than my usual hangover.

Where is the meat from the wet hollow

in the right side of my tongue?

And the inside of the right cheek?

Both pieces gone. Did I swallow them?

Aching everywhere. Exhaustion.

Anna's voice gently tells of another seizure.

She sounds upset. All I can do is groan

and whisper Oh no, then wind back

the clock thirty-odd years, until curling up

like an embryo seeking safety the way

it once was. Crying because it all seems

so shameful, pathetic. Nose is blocked,

moustache and beard stiff from the bleeding,

upturned bedside table, smashed lamp.

Her darling face comes into focus.

Time to shower, breakfast, psyche myself

into a Head Of Department again.