Lying in bed
scooping a little more sleep
into my bowl, like soup
until the soup goes cold
and starts to overflow
onto the table.
There’s the metal
of the ladel and it clinks
as a thin carrot wedge
rotates past
following the current
toward the table edge.
very dreamy, like the imagery. does sleep go cold? yes, as the day’s reality kicks in like a mosquito bite.
“Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep!” the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.”
—William Shakespeare, Macbeth
but, does macbeth murder soup? cruel oversight.
Sleep as soup? What’ve you been putting in your Wheaties, C.V.? Cool concept streteched to appealing extremes!
very dreamy, like the imagery. does sleep go cold? yes, as the day’s reality kicks in like a mosquito bite.
“Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep!” the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.”
—William Shakespeare, Macbeth
but, does macbeth murder soup? cruel oversight.