No warning can prepare
for what will hide in the folds
of a Morphean cuddle.
Covers touch ears and lull,
then life's lost hours of sleep
are avenged by demons.
Limbs dissolve, mountains spike
and suck everything
into the hungry freefall.
Old men peer from mirrors,
and the mesmerised crowd
ogles my nudity.
I crawl in my coma
to another corner,
where the sun will rise.
Something has choked it
and night persists,
shouts and fists fly.
Babies are born, but die,
while the mesmerised crowd
ogles my nudity.
When the sun at last
plucks out from its lazy cot,
I am exhausted.
Bleary eyes scan,
drapes are thrown over
a shivering frame.
I go out again
to the mesmerised crowd,
frantically checking for clothes.
Sonja Broderick
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nightcrawler/
