Live Encounters Poetry & Writing, Special Edition on Humour June 2024.
Afternoon nap, poem by Peter Bakowski.
Afternoon nap
A rest for my torso and toes…
Flat on my back. There aren’t any flies in a
Tailspin above the tarmac of my forehead.
Eyelids yield to the custom of sleep.
Rivers are crossed, slaves are freed,
Newly discovered species of plants are named after my children,
Only I know how to make a decent martini,
On the dark side of the moon, I find Elvis Presley.
Noise. On the roof. Yowling…
Naked. I can’t find my glasses, let alone my slingshot.
Awake now, I look through a Myer catalogue.
Pillows. A variety of colours and designs. Reasonable prices.
© Peter Bakowski
Peter Bakowski in 1983, he wrote his first poem at a farmhouse in Waco, Texas, upon receiving a “Dear John” letter. Peter then travelled for 7 years, caught a freight train across Montana, lived in a cave on a Mexican island, ate gazelle cooked in stale blood with road builders in the Central Africa Republic. 2024 represents his 42nd year of writing poems.