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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.