August 30, 2010

The Mystery at Lilac Inn

There has been a body
in this bed before you--

a dark head pressed its weight
into the pillow, rose
with the morning sun,

the wake-up call. A violent
bbrrring like a bud unfolding

in fast-forward. Flip
of petal, soft down stippling
the hallway stretching

to an unknown end.
You rise slower, the way an old

bulb pushes through the crust,
hairy and confused
at the new light--a sunrise

pressing insistently
at the soft spot of each temple,

a bell announcing breakfast,
croissants like yellow slugs
on each plate.

Request a bowl of beer
to stem the tide of small intruders--

more tiny bottles of
softness and scent--
an extra bone-white towel.