Morgan Michaels


Hercules At The Crossroads


Early and late
between a dream and awake,
midnight's medley and the stroke of eight
half asleep I lie and half awake.
The trees in this gray land
are hung with pearls and other sundry gems-
diamonds and green tourmalines
the sun's rays enter colorless
and easily exit

Shot to spectra; stain
with lozenges and squares the floor
in rainbow hues;
Can you wonder I prefer to linger
drowsing, never waking, here
at this nameless hour
between the moon's full grin and dawn's first glower
thousands of years for?
Who, really, could wonder?

Yet, I confess
once, before a certain dawning,
to have sunk into a dream-shot sleep:
Mighty labors lay before me fawning
Then I felt on my face
a lion's breath. Hell's breath
bothered by loud barking,
bird's and bird's wings scurrying the air,
and travel to a barbarous land.

Augeries, vivid as...

Submitted: Sunday, August 25, 2013
Edited: Friday, August 08, 2014

Topic of this poem: love


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