the sleepy man
the sleepy man lives inside a wood
he’s planting trees
he doesn’t want to work but work he does
he doesn’t want to think but think he does
and in his sleepy-workish thinking
the world’s red ants begin to plague him
he’s soon deplete of leaf and limb
thinner than a sapling
little more than head and torso
teeth and jiggered jaw
but soon with mind on mind
with eye on eye with breath on every breath
while all the trees inside his wood are resting
something incandescent settles on a power line
a figment or a starling hatched inside his throat
to blue the edge of every day
to indigo and magic-up
the fleshy mounds, the sweet decay.
©Anne Marie Butler 2018
A poem from a PENfro Poets Workshop Yoga Chakras and Creativity presented by Brenda Squires in April 2018.
Annie joined The PENfro Poets in 2013. She leads a quiet life and likes it when her poetry enjoys itself. She supports the Spoken Word and reads her work regularly at various venues throughout West Wales.
Her debut collection is due to be published by Three Throated Press.