Thursday, July 30, 2009

night of love

he hears something in the garden
he is scared he comes downstairs for reassurance
I hug him and take him back to bed
we share a moment there under the little alien nightlights
later I hear it too
in the beam of a torch I find two hedgehogs
making rhythmic rasping noises

there are lunar phases to this night
humours that tap at the window
signalling their arrival
a coughing of hedgehogs
as though the call and response of this house
gathered in nocturnal animals
who came to feed

I'll tell him about them tomorrow
the other one threw up the Tamiflu
I crushed into his milk
it steamed into the carpet
he's coughing now too
up there in the dark

in the dream a face at the window
a wild sort of face
the owls are yapping outside
somehow it has all swung in close
it is a faltering finger pushing in
a beak a proboscis
feeling for our weakness
it all feels like a nest

threatened by something outside
while we sit around the fire
counting another presence
in our midst

it feels invasive and familiar
something that has slept cocooned
in our bodies

there is a quiet over it all
muted voices in reassurance
the soft wash of the dark
adults holding children

lights far off
shining this way
but no one is coming

whatever was coming is already here
in the sensory fallback
of sickness
it is a night of love slipping
its ropes


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Only the gentlest of fatherly hearts would think to share that moment with a waking child. A simple moment in time conveyed with purity. Lovely