A Poem by Hillary Lyon

Boredom of the Beautiful Hour

the wet kiss of a breeze arousing the curtains
the sun stretches out across the hardwood floor
like a silky-haired dog lazing
the blue butterfly flowers in the empty wine bottle
the melody in D minor from another room
after awhile the beautiful hour

begins to pall
and you want the pictures on the shelf
to fall out of their frames
your glasses to crack prismatic
the veins in your wrists to shoot up
ropes for climbing shear cliff walls

you want charity to hang like veins
in your jungle within reach if you fall
you want stars to flutter through the night like moths
drawn to the only porch light
for miles the only sign of life
in your darkening world

Hillary Lyon is founder of an editor for the small poetry house, Subsynchronous Press.  Her work has appeared in EOAGH, Shadow Train, Eternal Haunted Summer, Red River Review, Red Fez and Shot Glass Journal, among others.  She lives in southern Arizona.