Two Sleepwalkers On the night she first sleeps with him a back door fills with stars. Out of night-shadow and floor-creak she steps barefoot onto dew-damp grass. The night's breath frisks her gown. She's six, then! She lived this dream. Except that now into its nave of streetlamps he comes also: the small boy the man once was, who last night at dinner, laughing, confessed how he too used to sleepwalk—one night, in his Hulk pjs, two blocks! Asleep, haloed in half-light, their two palms reach. Their four hands broaden and they clutch. Their eight limbs sleepwalk them into turned arms. Copyright © Derek Kannemeyer 2022
Bio:
Derek Kannemeyer’s recent books include an international poetry chapbook contest winner (Blue Nib 1, 2018), a play, (The Play of Gilgamesh, 2019), a non-fiction/photography hybrid about the fall from grace of Richmond’s Lost Cause statues (Unsay Their Names, 2021), a novel (The Memory Addicts, forthcoming, 2022), and a big old poetry collection (Mutt Spirituals, 2021).
30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review
Love it! It’s incredible how one form can be so varied in what comes out of it. And here, the bonding of sleepwalkers. Why did I never think of such a thought before. Thank you.
I am so pleased that this year’s challenge i resonating
It’s such a nice blend of the invitingly thematic and the flexibly technical, Mike!
Now I have to come up with something better for next year
Thank you too, Joan!
Wonderful, Derek!