Pile of Gumdrops

Her spouse wise or unwise, who can tell. Does he dream in midnight hues? Oh why doesn’t he wake up, or at least spit out that last sleeping pill. He might choke on it. The still of the night rattled by the movement of the boundary, like a lion’s hungry stomach. The moon roars creating goosebumps, pricks upon tender white skin. She barely breathes. Did anyone leave snacks inside this circus tent… Please...please...please. Helplessly she lies as the khaki quavers, heart frantic. She’s never thought herself mad, but like in a Poe story, the tell-tale… She imagines the lion with reflective eyes, baring full gums, toying with her...this is no cuddly kitten. Would her full-sandman spouse wake up, wonder where she’d gone, as the kindly sunlight blinded him to the truth. The truth is she would kill him, if only he’d open his eyes. Could she forgive him… At long last, darts race toward the roaming moon...she imagines that ghastly animal tumbling underneath the skirt, landing at her feet, swirling dust, an incomplete thought as the ferocious tongue lolligags onto her bag. Her husband smiles and turns over satisfied as he kisses his dream wife, moaning with pleasure; danger the last thing on his mind, as the hunters drag away the predator whose smell lingers in the morning coffee, the cigarette’s ash, the wife’s nostrils. And all the community can do the next morning is make fun of the snoring gun, the gray-haired spoon, and midnight adventure. the pile of gumdrops sparkle like dew for kitty here kitty...kitty 11/2/2020