JACK'S EUPHORIA///

with belated, bitter steps,
i entered a strange living room,
a stranger’s holy solitude. strange,
the stranger purred, that you should come
at such an hour.

treading uneasily into unlifted darkness,
my black pea coat still buttoned,
my head twisted in the direction of a
fevered tick.

hour after hour was an ancient god
with an animal head, emitting curt breaths
in their airless, immovable cages;
the minute hand was a spear,
pointing menacingly at ra,
while the hour hand appeared to be
a tiny twig gesturing suggestively to set.

i couldn’t understand the creaturely faces,
the ancient order remained incomprehensible.
on my own wrist there was no watch,
no supposition of time.
feeling shame and apprehension,
i apologized with crushed silence.

a glowing laugh throbbed in the
stranger’s throat: oh, it doesn’t matter.
it’s all a dream,
none of this is real anyway.

10:03 AM on Friday 10th February 2012 with 2 notes and Comments

tagged: poetry

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