Midnight Garden by Nicole Terry In the midnight garden dawn is just a forgotten memory in life’s silent serenade. We all dine like twilight kings and queens at eventide’s blackblood table. We stuff ourselves on daylight truths we barely understand in this kingdom of nightfall serendipity. In the mourning some of us are sorry for dining & dismiss ourselves quietly, almost timidly, our boastful palates barely breathing, to our chambers & dream of a sunrise too far away to hold. But the rest, with glutted bellies, post haste to an alabaster bowl, & within dump our drunken evening throes, wishing the gravid garden we had never seen in a fitful Lot’s wife glance. Ah-ha! exclaim we swine with bloated guts still gurgling, a borrowed lesson we now abide: Tomorrow’s midnight we’ll not dine, but dance. © Copyright 2008 Nicole Terry ALL RIGHTS RESERVED [back to Poems] [Sensual Poetry]