Big Finish
She wakes
And turns to the night stand
where, on the cobalt glaze of a teacup's belly,
the man in the laboratory coat tap dances.
He follows her everywhere now–
Smudge of face niggling
like the half-knowledge of an obligation
slipped to the periphery.
A flap of white, flash-reflection
off a black shoe
clang of shuffle-ball-change
shuff-full ball change. Full-ap. Full-ap.
Muffled scrape of metal on varnish
Dull tap of porcelain on an incisor
Her bare feet slap the floor.
The pine gives imperceptibly,
a nod of appreciation, silent
applause.
– ren powell