But First There Will Be Dreams
This is one of those dark paths you know better
than to walk alone. Right now, in the tense
theater of your mind, someone is yelling
from the back row: Don’t do it, babe!
and others are shaking rueful heads
at your foolishness, but the cobblestones
are so clean, and the moonlight gleams
so benignly on those whitewashed stone walls,
surely the gloom can’t take hold, so
you decide to chance it just this once, your pace
and your heartbeat sensibly quickened.
As you approach the place where
the shadows coat everything, you keep
your eyes fixed on the bend up ahead,
the lamppost’s reassuring glow that beckons
from beyond this bad idea. You’re looking forward
to laughing about this in the morning,
but first there will be dreams:
the kind that linger long and long,
starting with a single hollow footstep
from the darkness you’ve just left behind
thinking you were in the clear.
Low Tea
We drink Earl Grey together in a dusty, unsettled silence
jarred by the old man’s slurps and dribbles,
the shaky chitter of the cracked good china
gripped in his shaky paw,
his breath all puffing and purring
as he pours extra milk into his second cup,
presses damp and sticky fingers
on stray crumbs in his lap,
his eyes slitted at nothing,
his body turned a little away from her
in her velvet chair,
her black dress,
her perfect service,
that brittle smile.
Faintly from the open window comes
the little squeak and chunk of the mailbox
followed by the gentle roar
of the mail truck driving away from us.
A sparrow flusters by, and the old man
turns his head toward the commotion,
his furry eyebrows perked.
Then he licks his fingers clean,
brushes more crumbs from his whiskers,
and stretches his legs one at a time
as I hurry to finish my cold dregs,
my eyes meeting hers over the rim of the cup,
and the ticking from the clock becomes unbearable.
On the tray: one last scone that no one dares to take.
She offers it to us again and again.
Lara Adams Gaydos (2012 Bucks County Poet Laureate) has published poems in several journals, including Slant, U.S. 1 Worksheets, and the Schuylkill Valley Journal. She is the author of two chapbooks: Things That Were Only Briefly the Truth, and These Domestic Incidences, both from Finishing Line Press.