In The Lonely Apartment Den Poem by Stan Petrovich

In The Lonely Apartment Den



Whether the clock's striking three
Or nothing at all,
Life begins and ends here
The universal atoll.
Sprightly feelers begin a search-
For words, for the correct words,
In sound and/or time,
Honing in on heart and/or mind.

My couch sounds differently
At three am
Than at two pm,
When it is, for the most part,
Silent.
It does not breath then
Like in the early morning;
It doesn't stalk then
Like in the middle of the night.

The walls also pervade,
And guess riddles
Like, 'What did the chambermaid say? '

I am brightly quiet
Beleaguered by roundabout thoughts:
Who made the Tyger's maker
In the forests of the night?

All I can do is hover there
And begin a twitching fright.

Saturday, February 21, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: loneliness
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Stan Petrovich

Stan Petrovich

Fort Riley, KS
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