Poetry

Pieces of Day

Past Midnight

‘Oh terribly bad!’ said the princess. ‘I have hardly closed my eyes the whole night.’ The Princess and the Pea by Hans Christian Andersen

When sheep don’t count anymore

I pace, across 400 thread count bed sheets – cotton,

or silk is smooth too – sometimes

becoming twisted from tossing,

turning over and over, then I try

smothering mind behind

pillow

cases

open - ended,

nice fit,

flipped over and over for

must have cool.

But still

is not an action

for this restless darkness

turned light.

Already?

Glutton

The wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened, and then he immediately fell upon the good woman and ate her up in a moment, for it had been more than three days since he had eaten. Little Red Riding Hood by Charles Perrault

You, ravenous with pangs of hunger,

deep desire, so that you lust, thrust tongue

and sex hard into my delicate availability.

Letting Go I

"The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things:”

The Walrus and the Carpenter by Lewis Carroll

We walk along the seaside holding hands, warm

like velvet cushions of jewel colours, yielding to touch.

Clouds clutter the pale blue and I look up to see your face

against cotton whiteness, and an image of my father’s silken beard and puffed sails

blowing out to open water, past the lighthouse that’s perched on a tiny speck of rock just

jutting out from land.

Ardent hands hold thoughts, thoughts

of words, words that must be spoken. But no,

not now, not in this pristine moment of

forgotten anguish, past but

only yesterday, when you reminded me

you didn’t love me anymore.

Letting Go II

“The boy is right! The Emperor is naked! It’s true!”

The Emperor’s New Clothes by Hans Christian Andersen

Do not dress today.

Indulge the physical walking, talking,

animal-like figure you torture daily with

buttons and belts and too tight denim,

high-heels, watches, un-breathable leather.

Have the cool and temperate breeze

glance gently over skin’s prickly

yearning. Open your arms – wider – and

revel in the pure freedom of presence.

Can you taste it?

Night

It is said that the effect of eating too much lettuce is “soporific.”

The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies by Beatrix Potter

Wrap this tired frame,

blanket this willful spirit,

nestle these nimble limbs deep

inside this cozy cocoon. Yes,

she will harbour me, soothe my needless

prattle, keep unsettled musings

at bay. She will devour drama, sense

my need to ease away from day’s

dancing feet with tranquil sheets.

And so this ebony night I shall sleep.

Cradle divine.