A Somniloquist
Christmas Eve, near midnight.
The room has fallen silent,
swallowed up by darkness
save for my make-believe face
lit by the laptop light.
I’m half-way through an article
Chinese Taking the World by Storm
when a sudden voice fills the room:
Let’s go out and play!, it says.
I know well where it came from.
I turn round, you’re fast asleep,
your faint-pink, chopped lips
briefly parted by something
dreamt, which shaped
that plunging sound.
The next morning you tiptoe
to the window, draw
the curtains to the bitter fact:
the urban roofs intact,
circumvented by snow.
December 25th, 2011
© Branko M.
