Knot

It could be seconds, it could be minutes Or on a good day, maybe an hour After I awake all my senses start to ache Always the same strangling shame Visited down upon my brain each morning My soul is sick, a herring-gull in an oil slick I don't feel up to it but we're off To an old pal's wedding in the Lakes Following a flask of coffee up blustery Cat Bells We arrive late for the bird-of-prey display An eagle-owl swoops an inch above the ducking guests The feathered cleaver of its wing hews clouds of our breath It tears apart the abandoned body of a mouse And I feel nothing Mountains of finger food, flutes of fizz Billowing bunting my self-loathing is A purse full of bile whose drawstrings are this cheery smile "How've you been getting on?" Sausage rolls and vol-au-vents "What've you been up to?" Tiny cheese scones "Where are you living these days?" Yellow crumbs on silver trays Here comes the bride all dressed in white Wraith-like father at her side To the strains of "All I Have To Do Is Dream" And a baby's bone-chilling scream Waddling down the aisle comes a Golden Retriever In a waistcoat and dicky bow Golden rings dangling from a length of golden string And a thread of drool swaying to and fro "I do, I do," words like tiny fish tossed about in a swell Of fierce confetti and the echoing of pre-recorded bells You hook your arm in mine and reel me gently back towards myself But I feel nothing The best man's speech is pretty much a bleak Ham-fisted Powerpoint presentation On the groom's former life Of depravity and degradation The dad-dancing is in full-swing I'm at the buffet hoovering up the last of The corned beef pie I spot you chatting to some guy I don't know who you are Pile of sick on the bar Polyester tie Jägerbomb Flashing lights, laddered tights A nasty fight, karaoke Is it me who butchers "My Heart Will Go On"? Hey, let me out Stop the car, I want to get out Now wait, just calm down Don't tell me to calm down Please just calm down I don't remember What we're even arguing about But I feel something The fog hanging over Crummock Water Is swelling with morning and Curlews calling I rub the rheum from my eyes There must be a road nearby