The Threshold Dream
It can’t be conjured, drops in
on the wings of whim, swims
in the euphony of amnion-falls.
The setting? Always the same:
October, a red cottage on an oxbow,
the surprise cleft of summer heat.
I awaken naked, wound in sweaty
sheets, besotted with expectancy,
eager for escape, to be out-of-doors.
But I hesitate. My infant feet
are thin-skinned, unblemished.
A few steps past the threshold
are all I ever manage, before my
tender soles succumb, split open
like new potatoes, greedily absorb
the slate’s buttery warm face.
I pour her
into a chilled
until they burst
forth in desert
(Dementia Aspic was first published in Triggerfish Critical Review, 2010)
Maureen Kingston is an assistant editor at The Centrifugal Eye. Her poems and prose have appeared or are forthcoming in Big River Poetry Review, Blue Earth Review, Gargoyle, Gutter Eloquence Magazine, Stone Highway Review, Tattoo Highway, and Terrain.org.