Flor de la Canela (The Cinnamon Flower)

All the Roses | In the Dark | Night Tremens

In the Dark

© Carl Hathwell

The darkness descended and
The marquisettes rose and
The jujube sconces glowed
Along the French-pleat walls.
The projected beam, a specked iridescence,
Lit up the quartz-white screen
With Platonic apparitions.

The present, forgotten, returns in merciless detail.
The gray sky like sheet metal casting back its heat.
The clattering of a semi,
The gummy asphalt,
Hostile music from an open window,
The chatter of voices, nakedly intimate,
Fading in, fading out.

Let the dream stay a dream.
We've all earned a cool drink of Lethe.

The teacher's voice drones,
The clack of chalk its counterpoint.
I look out the window.
The shrub is browning out.
The russet masonry welters in the heat.
But I can conjure color.
I can say farewell to blue Delilah
Lying above the rubble.
Or glimpse Stewart Granger's profile,
Indigo against a jungle moon.