His Tale

This poem is in response to the prompt this week to write something that was inspired from the chapbooks.


His Tale
By Alexandra Evans

He stumbled in drunk, or something, I think
Almost daylight; the sun’s up, tomorrow’s on the brink
But claims that the night is still in the air
Caressing my cheek and whispering in my hair,
With giggles and smiles that otherwise seem vague
But now they reek, something pungent and afraid

“I am so high, high as a kite in the wake of the spring
As a bird who glides in the crystal blue sky as deep as the sea.
I’m soaring in a plane made of daisies,
fastened onto a candy-threaded string.
Listening to the other world sing. Listening to their rhyme
And secretive song, whispering ideas: the other world is wrong.

It’s made of tall buildings and hazards and whores
But we’re made of wonders that they cannot bring
Lush, spinning forests with grass of diamond rings
Faces strung out on an ongoing plane, hung high
Above the other planet, a microscope of discoveries
We take you on a trip to our best, organic feast
On sugared tables with cloths of cashmere covered fleece
Never bunk elsewhere; sleep on our dancing rain raves
Now you’ve had a taste, and are feelin’ pretty nice,
But you’re not full; no, have more and we’ll whirl
Stay with us in the natural world."

And I do, ride a kite up to infinity’s swaree
Heightening love for this world’s convinced me to stay.

Walk up to the stairs, annoyed and alone
Her sermon is done.