I couldn’t help myself. A notification of a 5-minute video came into my inbox. (It’s 4 am and not sleeping.) I watched Al and Gab on Wallace Stevens. Something about “Disillusionment at Ten O’clock”. And then I settled down to write. All I had was a drink of warm milk. Believe me, I have never smoked a joint in my life so even that is imagined.
A Step Further
after Wallace Stevens
I woke to heavy rain.
A poet doesn’t lie there
trying to go back to sleep.
She has grabbed her lasso
from the shed, waded out
to the flooded street. The cat
certainly doesn’t follow;
she sleeps on in her favourite chair.
The poet has hauled the croc
into the yard, into a swim pool
she’s long been meaning to install.
Overnight she accomplished
quite a lot.
Next morning, the neighbours
don’t believe her. She throws
a party (around her imaginary pool)
and by the time the neighbours roll
home they are amazed to have found
they too joined in the entertainment.
And even more amazed that on waking
they could find no evidence
of crocodile, pool or a tell-tale joint.
Benita Kape © 4.8.2018
benitakape 