POEM by Michael Botur

In Defence of Jack Torrance
poem by Michael Botur, Whangarei

Drinking stinging piss; devouring Stephen King’s
The Shining in the soundless-house hour
between 3 and 4 in the morning, hour of black gaps,
hour adrift, cast-off and maddening, no sign of shore,
I’ve renounced sober. I fear the landfall of dawn
Shuddering as rum and a found-it-in-the-fridge juice mix
burns the throat. Each sugarwater/liquor sip is a pinch
Sickened with each sip, I tip my cup in support of narcissist
Jack Torrance, my idol, my guy, the only bro around at 3.49
I drink to his narrative in a book-binge-blitz,
I forgive his sins ‘cause he’s my protagonist
He’s a writer too. He’s ego-teased, too. He’s my bud,
shows me how to get fucked-up while he cuts up kids in a blizzard
Some of us just can’t handle stress, Jack, we all bend til we snap,
we’re all so on-edge, so insomniatic,
we’d do that massacre shit for a little bliss, a little silence
we all fall from innocence when we’re on the piss
I turn pages, I sip and wince, enthralled as Jack hacks
through snowdrifts. Miserable, suicidal,
crushed by an unfinished novel,
we hear the void call
And I too, when depressed, when pricked with unrest
crave a silent missus and kids. I’d kill for some kip
I suck another gut-punishing Coruba-swig
And think bail think parole think guilty pleas and degrees
of culpability. Jack smashes his antagonists
with a mallet and I wish the man well.
He’s misunderstood, he’s insane and awake.
Just like me in the hour after three,
Asking only a quiet house, some privacy and a little sleep,
seeking role models in books and a bottles.

READ MORE FROM THIS WRITER

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One Comment

  1. Yo, this comment is in response to the poem ‘In Defence of Jack Torrance’ by Michael Botur – I thought it was a dark but beaut poem. My name is Mike Botur, and this has been a test comment. Signing out.

    Like

    Reply

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