Thursday, May 13, 2010

Last Night I Lay Awake

Last night I lay awake

in bed, listening to the house

and planets whispering.

I fidgeted and they fell silent.

The universe swept itself

under the carpet,

darkness overflowed the bath: I'd

upset the rhythm of things.

As I held my breath,

the nocturnal sighing

returned: a poltergeist

began humming in the attic,

swinging his hips to the pulse

of the southern lights; a possum

shook comets from a canopy;

hooping winds bundled the moon

through my bedroom door as eerie creatures

from the neighbours’ pipe dreams slid

like liquid sugar down the alleys,

kissing the streetlights out with enormous lips,

and I promised not to make a scene again.

I will lie awake, motionless and soundproof,

as the gutters creak, the tiles crack,

and the windows crystallise,

waiting for the stars to breathe out

and space to unfold

(winner 3rd place in the Fish Publishing International Poetry Prize, 2010)