Asleep On Shiva’s Forehead

A half-finished
Glass of Rioja
And the remains of
Some crackers,

A creased book
On ‘Gods’,

The lines scatter
Then fade,

Just a single thought pops,

There are no temples
Free from snakes
In the netherworld.

Lost in calm around this time,

In the sweet post-dinner lull,

His head lolls,
Bobbing for apples,

Sat in his cloud,
Above his crumb chested kingdom,

Ten minutes ridding evil,
A slouched enlightenment
Unfurled,

Dozing but gently wired
To all movements,

His relaxed collapse
Is in touch with the room,

The news drifts a whisper,
He groans,

A voice calls him,
He burbles;

Half-deaf and humming transmissions,
He uses his whole body as an ear,

Before mumbling out
One last rummaged thought,

The snakes were always there.

2 Responses to “Asleep On Shiva’s Forehead”

  1. Hi Dunstan. I have stumbled across your poetry and enjoyed this one very much. Bex Moss

  2. Lovely to hear. I find stumbling is often the best way to find things 😉 hope you’re well – thanks for the kind message

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