The Cave of Hypnos: Early Poems
Last Laugh of the Rainbow Dancer
Charles W. Bailey, Jr.
The black candle of night
is reversed and lit
as Annie stumbles
through the kitchen door
blue terry cloth robe
untied, rubbing her
dream crusted eye.
The stove flickers on
in the frost tinged shadows
as Ichabod, the half-blind
alley cat, slips between
her ankles, begging for a
little warm milk.
Annie drops
freeze-dried coffee
into the cup,
which melts
into last night's
lover's face,
and she drifts back
under his back before
he danced out
the morning door
without waving
goodbye.
The toaster grates
like a hinge, and
Annie swings over
the linoleum floor,
humming, smearing
butter on toast.
She catches a glimpse
of two glasses, wine stained,
and feels empty as a
dry wind.
Dew has risen into frozen flowers
on the windowpane,
and Annie stands
startled.
Ichabod has smashed
the sugar crock,
the grains
are pouring
in white waves
out on the
floor.
Inexorable,
innocent waves
right there
on the
floor.
Copyright © 2012 by Charles W. Bailey, Jr.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.