The Empty Bed
by Bill Yarrow
The middle of the heavy bed was empty.
They were people who liked to sleep on edges
and tug on covers. Each night enacted the tufted
tussle of love and redacted the dreams of the day.
Each night fleshed out the spooky skeleton
of living together and amalgamated the twin
incorporation of souls. But by day the birds
of prey were in control. Auburn hawks and taut
harriers crisscrossed the kitchen and family room.
Bright falcons nested in the cracks of the cathedral
ceilings. Every closet had its owl. One day an eagle
crashed through the screen door. That scared away
the buzzards. The craven mother got the shotgun
but the eagle fled with two of the children in its beak.
They were people who liked to sleep on edges
and tug on covers. Each night enacted the tufted
tussle of love and redacted the dreams of the day.
Each night fleshed out the spooky skeleton
of living together and amalgamated the twin
incorporation of souls. But by day the birds
of prey were in control. Auburn hawks and taut
harriers crisscrossed the kitchen and family room.
Bright falcons nested in the cracks of the cathedral
ceilings. Every closet had its owl. One day an eagle
crashed through the screen door. That scared away
the buzzards. The craven mother got the shotgun
but the eagle fled with two of the children in its beak.
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Author's Note
This poem originally appeared in WRENCH (erbacce-press 2009).
It was republished in THIS Literary Magazine.
The poem appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX, 2012).
Other stories by Bill Yarrow
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Why am I smirking? Love the image of the eagle carrying off the ankle biters! B.Y. does it again!
Fave.
"Auburn hawks and taut
harriers crisscrossed the kitchen and family room.
Bright falcons nested in the cracks of the cathedral
ceilings." I'm sure I lived in that house a number of years ago. Hard to escape the talons, and one is always slipping ass over teakettle on the copious droppings soggy underfoot.*
Great bird imagery, Bill. I like the piece.
Does the eagle bring the children back? fave
'Every closet had its owl.' Loved this.
Great opening image, I spent a few seconds picturing it, which readied my mind to picture the rest. *
The bird imagery is very nice, but I love the bed imagery as well.
Thought provoking poetry:
Each night fleshed out the spooky skeleton /
of living together and amalgamated the twin /
incorporation of souls.
Every closet had its owl. Very nice, Bill. Love the ending too.
So much depth woven throughout this poem with the imagery and wonderful metaphors, the bed, the birds, the dreamlike or fairytale haunted quality of it. All make it a BY fave.
This has a fairytale, nightmare quality that's effective. Love the word "tufted" in line 3, and the ending! *
Love the ideas of nesting and flying and sleeping. '...redacted the dreams of the day...' so good. Peace *
Bill this is so damned good.
*