The Poetry Project

Dorothy's Little Bed

Anne Tardos

Dorothy’s little bed another corner, from which a ladder in its path.
Timidly up to the door, how are we to get away, or next day, maybe.
Patiently reading a book is where they entangled again.
Out of a long conversation: stick to the task.
The reader understands the magnitude of the enveloping story.
A child’s vision in contact with mythical forces, departure times, melancholy caterpillars.
We need some elephants shiny ones.
I don’t care a great deal never mind louder.
Silence in a moment more people in the garden.

Oh, of course, that sounds amazing.
Under the leaves, just like me.
Nothing, she said nothing, I think I will go and meet her.
No more insects while walking in the opposite direction.
What kind of insects, very large ones that talk.
A goat in white so young and gentle so unsuspecting with luggage.

A gnat, as if nothing bad has ever happened.
An agony of haste, crawling branch above your head.
And now who am I and what exactly do I call myself?

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