| Arsenic Lobster poetry journal |
Issue Thirty-six Winter 2014 |
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| I Brought the Shovel to My Bed Carol Berg The red plastic blade all faded and warped, spider webs, rusted pine needles threaded across its handle from the shed to shovel your fragrance from my dreams. Honey suckle and the deep spice of you. The sheets laying so green and calm, pillows so innocent only the curtains sure of their guilt as they held the delicate moonlight inside their waiting creases. Dark hours tilting recklessly in my mind. What word unlocks you? Where have you hidden my nightly name? My bed imagining the contours of your weight. My bed with its uncoilings and unanswered fires. |
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