From “Fire Stations”

/, Blesok no. 58/From “Fire Stations”

From “Fire Stations”

Night Work
The Sleeping Gypsy
Saturday Night
Acoustic Mineral Wool
The Silken Road

after Roberto Juarroz

As I sleep, my two hands come awake
and work their craft, create or unpick
some halfway human body, stitch by stitch,
play Frankenstein all night behind my back.

I hear them, from my sleep: I hear them groom
this bastard demi-ghost, this bloodless golem,
doctoring its life, its other death.
I wake, with two hands folded on my chest.

AuthorA.B. Jackson
2018-08-21T17:23:04+00:00 February 25th, 2008|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 58|0 Comments