Nights Like These

By Steve Denehan

---

There is a time of the night

when time becomes fluid

starts to fray

ripples and sways

when a part of you believes

that the night will last forever

when the edge of the world is a haze

and blurring letters, emancipated insects

scuttle on pages

when it is impossible to tear your gaze away

from infomercials

and eighties hits

and B and C and D movies

yet

I find myself contented in this half doze

and I am sure that I will sleep well

if I can find it in me to drag myself

off this couch away

from this carnival of drivel

I promise I will shuffle down to bed

as soon as I watch the man

chop the mid-air pineapple in half

one more time

although

wait

look at how long that hose is extending

one minute it is neatly coiled

the next

the man in the purple polo shirt is hosing begonias

in Tim

buk

fucking

tu

I stand up and begin

the a.m. shuffle

toward tomorrow

life is here

life is there

waiting for me

and this is what I do with it

---

Steve Denehan lives in Kildare, Ireland with his wife Eimear and daughter Robin. Recent publication credits include Better Than Starbucks, Fowl Feathered Review, The Blue Nib, The Opiate, The Hungry Chimera, Poetry Quarterly, Evening Street Review, The Folded Word, Ink In Thirds, Crack The Spine, The Cape Rock, Visions International and Third Wednesday.  He has been nominated for The Pushcart Prize and his chapbook, "Of Thunder, Pearls and Birdsong" is available from Fowlpox Press