
Boston Has A Bedtime
The storefront faces wrinkle
Till they part a gaping yawn
Eyelid-doorways shut up
And leave only the twinkles
Of the mind, the switches of thought
To be cast down
At which point no admittance is permitted.
No annoyance, nor disturbance,
Or even change jingling
Can pry the portals open for further transaction
The clatter of china dishes
From diners, brasseries and bistros
Makes a chinking like a music box:
An enchantment
Composed nightly
Enhancing the desire to dream,
The aspiration to sleep-
To follow the fingernail moon wherever it glows,
Even to cradle in the scoop of its bow
And balance on the end of its cape with your feet
The city lights encircle street occupants
They streak like a whitewash smirch
On an ebon-even sky
And play ring around the rosy
Till the tenants come tumbling down
They are as fool’s gold against the genuine.
What is a streetlight to a star?
The twinkles make a frenzy
And dizzy city-dwellers into a drowsy, comfortable
Tranquility
The owls–
The dream-seam rippers and the
Page-turners,
They are the disobedient ones!
They blink at the sun like a mismatched stocking,
And ignore the night like a gutter dime
They pull out the feathers and pellets-
Tear out the stuffings of time
And rattle the corridors like they rattle their minds
Boston has a bedtime
Written by Nina Ricci ©2013 All Rights Reserved

Photo by Teresa Hunt Ricci / Get Noticed Music Photography