Upon the day which has not broken
When all are tight in dream and sleep
A muffled fluffing barely spoken
From underneath the ruffled sheets
In snooze so deep as none disturb’d
The bedmate shifted turning over
The edge of blanket gapped and blurbed
The thing from underneath the cover
Upon the floor the first to notice
The faithful dog at foot of bed
Her ears dropped back and whimpered voice
Proclaimed the coming of the dead
The atmosphere grew thick and foul
Almost to touch solidified
Escaped in sleep from Satan’s bowel
Where something crawled inside and died
Woken by a scent most rancid
I sat up straight and proclaimed with a gasp
‘Saints preserve us, this air is like acid’
So I grasped at the window and fumbled the hasp
Dawn’s first pink light had begun to creep
O’er the hilltops with shining fingers
I opened the window and out like sheep
The blackened herd that will surely linger
The birds, who’s day-song speaks at morning
Migrated to a cleaner place
While some, too slow to heed the warning
Dropped like stones from outer space
Upon the trees the leaves turned brown
And curled and fell as if in Autumn
The bugs lay twitching on the ground
When touched by the gas blown from my bottom
The meal consumed the night before
Was simple and harmless, so it seemed
But I’ll never consume the same substance no more
For fear of the foghorn in my dreams
An Original BeachGoat Poem
