Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man Anne Marie Powell
3/15/2000 10:15 am
kitchen table
Laramie, WY
These days, it is ever present
Something in the sub-conscious
not like when you can’t let go of a thing
but when a thing stands there on it’s own
smirking, comfortable in it’s silence
taking up strange residence
in the shadows of daytime thoughts
waiting to come out
at darker times

Waking up on the floor
with my dream still intact
hot under the covers in the dying dark
as the new light slides around the sides of the shade
chasing disturbing images,
the demons of our nocturne,
scurrying for safety across the kitchen floor
claws clicking against the shining surface
whispers of last minute hiding places found
back into the closet
or under the stove

There, in the space of the quiet that is left
in the somehow colder light of morning
I finally decide to open my eyes.
And, as always, his image remains.
even so.
and even now.

 

 

 
   
Poetry © 2000 Anne Marie Powell, All Rights Reserved ~ reproduced with permission of the Author

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