Saturday, September 1, 2012

A Poem by Emma Ambos


In the morning
(very-much nightlike
in fact)
the periwinkle snails
and go for a stroll
the coldcoffee-cockroaches
have wings like gossamer
and, alight on the backs
of fairy-terns, they
lookdown on us
(in all our slumbers)
first time
the pistol-shrimp
shed their Great Grey Skin
pull on Pink Party Dresses
and dance to ‘Swan Lake’
the breadandbutter-flies
draw too near thefire
and make themselves intotoast
the new-dawn fawns
dappledwith thieves fingertips
tie their roller-skates up
and clumsy-clatter do-
wn the street
(they’d never leave-
Rudolf out)
in the morning
when our bedclothes lully-byeus
something extra-
greets the day forus
Emma Ambos is a writer with itchy fingertips and a love for the great Outa-Doors.

1 comment: