Good night, Sweetie

His mind is a depression,

curved, a hemispherical nest

hollowed into straw cradling

two eggs, the one blue-white

like the rising moon, the other brown

and speckled, neither warm.

The night moves over him

in waves, the borning stars,

the pockets of cool air, frogs

and horses’ hooves, memories

bobbing to sea like paper lanterns

flaring and then only two.


About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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One Response to Good night, Sweetie

  1. mrsorenson says:

    You captured here the raggedy and relentless organization of fertility – both in egg and mind. Nice.

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