Incessantly
All night long my mind was rough lullaby—
bye baby bunting and rockabye,
a cradle swung in peril from
its bending branch, daddy still gone
a-hunting for the rabbit skin,
eternal rabbit waiting to be shot.
Do we invite our nightmusic?
An endless abbadabba honeymoon that spins
dark and holds back dawn
with false promises of some completion better
than sleep.
Always the unanswerables, the tease.
Would you like to swing n a star?
Wouldja? Wouldja?
Maybe a key’s buried just outside a garden.
Tears for a mother’s dwarf fruit tree
that never grew apricots? For music
trapped in a cradle till the bough breaks?
And why does he want to wrap you
in a rabbit skin? Would that include
the ears? damp wriggle of nose?
morning dew on the clover?
No comments:
Post a Comment