crazy hammock
when I awake
to wild hammock swings, higher and wilder
than I've ever known –
earthquake I think, or sudden gusty wind –
I need to get inside,
grasping the iron picket
to tip myself out
hoping
to take refuge in my lover's house
but I have no key –
then come the sounds
of revelry, of naked men
drunk and crazy, lolling in the catchpools
and stone depressions
rising
out of the steps, he comes for me
with his bare-shouldered sneer,
and I run –
I become the cat
in my arms, a series of agile
leaps, porch to windowsill to countertop
never touching down
needing
to rouse someone in time, I shout
and brandish the cat
my cries
drop down, yet I'm
still smiling –
hesitate
and you'll never see his face,
morning warns
from the marble countertops
when I awake
© 2007 by Beth Stevens
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