The Brain That Ran Away
poem
Stephen Collicoat
Last night, I saw
Your brain run away.
It's O.K. though:
No one else
Appeared to notice
And certainly it's no loss.
It occurred
On the stroke of eight,
When I was busy
Serving soup and meat:
Dinner at home for friends.
Your skull flipped open
Allowing your brain to slither out
Before the hair cap closed.
Proud I didn't miss a beat
Other hostesses,
Even Elsie Maxwell,
Might have found that
Disconcerting.
Watched it
Crawl down
To cling,
Glistening, on your cheek.
Swiftly grew
Feeler arms
And small, but sturdy legs.
Then it slid
Into your lap
Tracking blood,
Across your tie
And snowy shirt.
A balletic leap,
Until it crouched,
Trembling amid our crockery.
As guests dissected
Steak and the Middle East,
It made its run.
Scurrying,
Like a desperate rat,
Dodging crashing bottles
And stabbing forks.
Lost sight of it
At table's end.
Heard its thump though:
A wet flop
Upon the polished floor.
Squirming behind our drapes.
Appearing briefly.
Suckered to the windowpane.
Fumbling with the catch.
Last glimpse I had
Was of a scarlet demon fleeing:
Escaping through the garden.
The Brain That Ran Away COPYRIGHT 2006 Stephen Collicoat.
Reproduction prohibited without permission from the author.
01/20/06
