the foretaste of a somnambulist

surreptitiously i ogled for my ear

and in a vociferous whisper, voiced i

and declare--an intent for a steep

in the cold feet of the twenty-eight

 

‘twas in hera’s moon, of half and gloom

that I had been rooted on some rocks

during the roosters’ unpredictable squawks,

I was one of the light shades of the dark.

 

of the damp place i was forbearing

my stead’s left in the dewy side stream.   

as my supplication places me therein,

there, in the threshold of their dwelling.

 

then ,alas! she, shot, out, of the ochre frame

after a fourscore of the long hands ‘swaying

a common foible we consume; time’s in oblivion

ne’er did we come so soon-an odious execution.

 

keen- she never was; for she shrieked in surprise.

I  was a stone, a statue, one with the black cocoa.

when she found me there- she was struck with fear.

as if my palm is a den for banes and lawless daggers.

 

to atone for a thousand-second drops in pools

i felt a gentle bi-labial touch on my countenance

and an embrace glazed with the most fervent  glance

as we danced through the swerving paths of love.