The Cave of Sleep
After Golding and Warner
Poppies in bloom about the Cave
In Greece, I saw drops of red on all the ruins.
The seeds of sleep dripping with milk
My blind grandmother drank milk and maple syrup.
The world resting under enchantment
The bloodied eyes of briar rose’s prince remain with me.
The soundless Cave with no door
The bruises on her spine silently screamed volumes last night.
A soft bed cradled in its depths
My godmother made a crown of freshwater pearls for my bassinet.
The God of Sleep resting and drowsy
I’d come so close to throwing myself out a window; I’d not slept in days.
Dreams floating about him
In Spain, I burned the thin skin on my breasts and we picked bones from salmon.
Kristin Maffei (Not Intent on Arriving) is a graduate of Sarah Lawrence College and co-founder of the literary ‘zine Call & Response. Her poetry has been featured in The Little Jackie Paper, The Sarah Lawrence Review, In Flux, and on SadieLou.net and a few buses in Oxfordshire. A freelance writer, her articles have appeared in a variety of newspapers in Putnam County, New York, and she once edited a book on horses.
