At night, as I go to sleep

My ego lays down her spade and trowel

Takes off her overalls;

Those well-worn work clothes.

She puts down her ropes and devices of control

And slowly, my psyche disrobes.

Taking off my daytime attire

Striping naked, laying bare

All that is daytime

And that I wouldn’t dare

To expose in the daylight glare.

 

At night, while I sleep

A throng of performers

Take to my stage

Enacting all that I can’t

Brave and all that needs

Closer scrutiny; those

Murky daytime affairs.

 

Then out comes my cook.

The alchemist of my Soul

Ready to dissect and de-bone

Strip bare and pluck

The feathers off my frivolous charms

And feeble attempts at life.

Throwing them all into the pot

She stirs and turns up the heat

Ready to boil me down to

Sinewy bare bones

Steaming my flesh

Plucking out my eyes

So that I might see things afresh.

 

She stirs and pours

Sifting each mess through the

Strainer of truth

And there I am:

Laid bare on a slab

For all the world to see.

Cooked flesh

Over a slow flame

Burning for several hours again.

 

She works so hard

This Goddess in my Kitchen

I owe her so much:

My heart, my Soul, my life!

I love you dear one

Thank you for all you do

For all you show me each night

While I sleep

And my ego repairs

And while you mend my Soul anew.

 

©Angela Dunning, 25th August 2019

Art: ‘The alchemist cook’ by Marina Pallares

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