Peignoirs

 Kathi Wolfe

To dream of baboons and periwinkles...None of them are
strange...Disillusionment of Ten O’Clock...Wallace Stevens

The night you haunt my house

I dream of baboons and periwinkles.

The periwinkles play blue guitars,

the baboons stomp on the green

moss at the feet of your ghost.

You wear your white flannel

nightgown. “Nothing is strange,”

you say, “I don’t want to be too

flashy – to knock your peacock

feathered socks off.  There’s no

need for passion fruit peignoirs

where I live now. Nothing is strange.

Tigers are always caught.  The weather

is always red.  Come dance with me.”