glass shattered
on the stone floor
held the dregs of red wine
devoid of fluidity
stuck to the shards
like scabs
unable to splatter
beyond the broken vessel’s fragments
to unwary feet
left bare
stumbling in the early morning dark
in dry-mouthed thirst
the sound of breaking glass
from last night’s drunk
empty cup slipped from weary fingers
left for morning sweeping
misty recollection
in the mind’s hungover fog
cold floor
sends shudder
through the nerves of the toes
to the spine
jolting the tired brain awake
with neon flashes
“step over”
feet comply
avoiding the scattered remains
the kitchen tap
now flowing


Words and Photography ©2017 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse. Bookmark the permalink.

28 thoughts on “Fluid

    1. Thanks, Steven. I appreciate the comment. I rarely drink alcohol myself, so my angle on it was more of a “slowly waking up in the midst of a fog”. Alcohol is certainly a poison in the lives of many.
      Have a great day!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I did pick up on that message, Tonya. I’m still working to develop more appreciation for poetry and your writing helps. I can relate to the “waking up in a fog” deal. I’ve stumbled into the dark before and crashed into something. Not my best hour. Thanks for sharing. God bless.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thank you. I try to write pieces that can be interpreted in multiple ways. I learn more from writing like that. There really isn’t a “wrong” interpretation to poetry. How does it impact you? That’s what makes it interesting! Blessings your way too!


  1. Sounds like someone had a tough night here…a very good piece, Tanya. Thanks for sharing it. You tell such a good story!

    Enjoy your day, my friend

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes, I don’t drink much at all…a glass of wine now and then. It was a great way to get your story told in a way many people understand, drinkers or not.


        Liked by 1 person

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