Evening Counsel

He's not handling it well.

The air's hazy with pollen,
Every breath dusty with regret.
The night stretches
down to join him in the wildflowers,
stroking, teasing,
whispering in his ear
stabbing the surface
of self-pity and remorse

Whiskey-comfort bursts in swirls
behind shattered eyes and through protesting mind,
anger and disgust burning deep to bone.

He flings the photograph,
wrinkled, faded like her affection,
at the winking, joking stars
and screams cleansing agony.