THIS NIGHT WILL PASS

Down the hall, waves slosh at your door.

You’re in there sleeping until nautical dawn,

sugary lips like meadowsweet in its young pink,

cheeks like pear blossoms where summer lingers

and hums with arithmetic bees –

perhaps you are dreaming umbrellas

embellished with yellow bananas,

or pairing bird and flame, lace curtains with river falls

but baby, this night will pass

with its nocturnes, dark leaves and tiny lights,

like everything in entropic flight

you’ll wake to find it has gone away.

Medb Charleton

Medb Charleton grew up in Sligo, Ireland. She did an MA in Creative writing at the IIML in Wellington and since has published poems in Landfall, Sport, JAAM and online.