When the Cradle Stops Rocking – David Lohrey
When the cradle stops rocking,
pink and blue darlings
spin in the breeze,
as these pastel posts
pen me in, lest I fall.
It’s dark. Why’d they turn
out the lights? That man came in again,
repeating my name. He pressed his wet lips
against my cheek and blew.
I want that ant to follow my eye.
His friend circles above,
keeping her thoughts to herself.
Her mate can’t seem to get in.
Silk threads above hang loose and
dangle. Is it a trapeze; is it for fun?
There’s so much murmuring I can’t sleep. The flying duck
and the mouse dance but don’t sing.
It’s the woman’s fragrance I miss most of all,
and I like her cold finger behind my ear.
[David is lost in Japan. He is a smart, kind man who writes amazing poetry. We are thrilled to…
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