Instead Of Sleeping
Down Under A Waxing moon,
and yawning air,
besides a crying candle and fresh fungus
on maple wood door,
there were jailed faces on the wall
and a painting of a ghost town.
the ant-legged sandy with a wrinkled forehead
and half-eaten eyebrows and shady eyes of
a cottonmouth snake
remembered Lewis, her beau,
who babysits some love to her,
and woke up.
holding a cup of coffee like a centenarian…