Poem of the Month: The Brink

I heard it rattle in the night
from the kitchen far within
beyond the shadows on the stairs
past the dark’s own dust
where moth wings dry to powder
in furtive, splintered corners
out of harm’s way

Descending barefoot to the sound
cold air coiled round my legs
kitchen sucked in moonlight
errant pots shone icy still
cut in stained linoleum
a covered door heaved
lunged at from below

It was not there by day
the straining, urgent door
the floor lay seamless then
waxed to glib connivance
beneath our family’s feet
a worn spot at the sink, one curled lip along the stove
were all the wear that showed until tonight

Though I could not imagine
who had hewn this flimsy door
fit the unconvincing latch
nor what exactly clattered there
I read the summons in the dark
pressed both hands against the lid
held back what would be born

I urged the tangled sleepers
to help me meet the brunt
they shifted in their heavy beds
wondered what had made them turn
pulling taut the silent sheets
they settled deeper from the brink
beneath the weight of dreams

There! the coarse lid almost lifts
my patient foe will surely win
dredge its shape into our house
speak its tale in every ear
make us set another place
when we would rather turn away
to darn our socks and watch t-v

My hoard of strength is nearly spent
and I grow weary of my post
of lonely fears, the bulk of night
while its crude life beats steady on
besieges sense with fierce intent
like infants claw their given names
apart from every other noise

“The Brink” was published in the anthology True Confessions, Los Angeles, CA, 1993.