At Home in Bed, Awake, on My Side, Alone

by Glen Martin Fitch

Beside him, silent, stately,
on his right,
the old magician's
fair assistant stands alert,
yet selfless,
keeping out of sight
the trove of secret props
held in her hands.
Just so I'd like to think
you're guarding me
I know you're watching,
fear you're judging too.
You are the first and last thing
that I see.
In darkness full of fear
I reach for you.
Just once I found unlocked
my father's drawer and spied
his potions, entertainments, aids
and shut it,
reassured, embarrassed, sore.
Those linger
even as his figure fades.
Protect and comfort me.
I'll kill the light.
“Good night, my night-stand,
standing guard.
Good night.”


Glen Martin Fitch's picture

Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."

Last updated August 23, 2011