Slumber Interruptus

painting by curtis wilson cost

Slumber Interruptus 

“All is well, tho’ faith and form

be sunder’d in the night of fear.”

--Alfred, Lord Tennyson

What the hell was it

that woke you at 2 a.m.,

a growl, a howl, a cough,

a distant scream

like a lost infant 

in the velvet folds of the forest,

something alien prowling beneath

the bedroom window?

Only one sure cure,

flip on the lamp light,

slippers shuffling, flooding

the kitchen with brightness,

shattering the hypnogogia,

a tentative peek out the window

over the sink, that damned dripping

faucet joining the melee, followed

by the welcome electric whirring

of the regenerative refrigerator motor,

then rather than facing the maybe-phantoms

who might appear red-eyed at some pane,

you just pop open the fridge door

and reach for that last fat piece of cheesecake,

accompanied by a cold glass of whole milk

and a handful of red seedless grapes

and three chilled chocolate kisses.

At the sink rinsing the dishes,

your busy tongue digging out

the last morsel of grape peeling

from craggy molars, enjoying

a lustrous cheesecake burp,

your lids suddenly grow heavy,

and you habitually stagger back

to the bedroom, bravely flipping

off lights as you crawl into the safety

of grandmother’s quilt, soon eradicating

both the chill off your bare feet

and the noises of the night,

finding yourself on that familiar beach,

holding one of those silly umbrella drinks,

wearing oversize sunglasses, hearing

only the sweet surf

and children’s laughter.

Glenn Buttkus

October 2012

Posted over at Magpie Tales 139

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