You, my bed,
Four legged minotaur
Soft-bellied gestapo man,
I am your running gypsy
Your Greek take-away.
Do you spy me when
I put a cross through a line
Or eat a cupcake?
With your spectacled deep black
You must smell my fear through your
Pink flabbed ringed nostrils.
My fear, my fear.
You get me.
I fall off the hour hand
As it re-loads at twelve
And you chew me all night.
Your stubby cow teeth are worse
Than lead weights
A sea of heavy water.
You torture worse than history said so.
Did Mr. Perseus have to go
Through the tar-black maze
Whilst you gassed it?
And you couldn't hold back
Flooding me with your hot
Salt sea. I wake in it.
You've branded it on my thick-veined forhead.
I pick the chlorine coloured sleep from my eyes
And roll off your noxious tongue
For another day.
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Comments about this poem (Child's Sleep by Sandy Player )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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