Beneath the bed a garden sits and waits
Smooth the sheets, my head upon the pillow
Asleep am I until the chaos breaks
Carrots clawed by digging armadillo
Nightmare screams from radishes upended
Oh, Stevenson! Upon this counterpane,
Your childhood verses here would be splendid,
Like lamplights bright, their shine my creature’s bane –
This naked-tailed, nine-banded coot, it prys
Into my dreams, their scenes. It’s loose! Good lord!
The chase is on! And deep and deeper tries
To run, to sleep’s deep source, to nighttime’s hoard.
‘Till dawn awakes me back in bed, my heart
Now still, my dread relieved from night’s dark art.