Moriarty

Posted on 2020/11/10 by Bartholomew Barker

Moriarty

I’ve got a roommate
an old tomcat
don’t know his name
but I call him Moriarty
he doesn’t seem to mind

We used to leave the apartment
together after twilight
go about our separate businesses
in back alleys
and dank clubs

We’d usually return
around dawn— drunk
missing a chunk of an ear
but then they closed the bars
because of some damned virus

I thought alcohol
was antiseptic

Doc says the crap
I drink is killing me
burning a hole in my gut
like a cigarette snuffed
out on a wedding dress

And the crap I eat
is clogging my arteries
like gunpowder
in the cellars of parliament
just ready to blow

Tattooed on my chest
are the words:
do not resuscitate
if found on the floor
of a strip club

but they’ve closed them down too
so I guess I’ll just die here

It could be worse
I’ve repaired my old turntable
so I can play some decent jazz
I’ve got a freezer full of bottles
and a case of TUMS® under the sink
the shades are drawn
for eternal twilight
I’ll hold on as long as I can

I still let Moriarty roam
these emptied streets
there’s this hot calico
sniffing around the dumpsters
under my fire escape
so there’s still mischief
to be had in a world
even without me

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is one of the organizers of Living Poetry, a collection of poets and poetry lovers in the Triangle region of North Carolina. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to Moriarty

  1. Lisa Tomey says:
    2020/11/10 at 18:56

    I am glad you can, at least, live life out vicariously through Moriarty.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  2. JeanMarie says:
    2020/11/10 at 20:51

    I love this poem. There are just so many great lines in this poem.
    …alcohol is an antiseptic
    …cigarette stubbed out o a wedding dress
    …eternal twilight

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  3. Cassa Bassa says:
    2020/11/11 at 13:17

    Moriarty is wild as wild wild west 🤠

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  4. equipsblog says:
    2020/11/29 at 09:29

    I love the irony in your words. At least Moriarity can still cat around.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  5. Pingback: Sonnet — April 27 | Bartholomew Barker, Poet

Leave a comment