Spoonful: A Gathering of Stone Soup Poets

An extension of Cambridge's Stone Soup Poetry Venue.

Poem by Gypsypashn

Photo by Bill Perrault

He wakes

in the darkness
thrashing and screaming
These visions are his monkey
of the night. By day

he finds the spoon
to cook a better daydream.
He chases innocence
through the needle's eye
His days as a soldier

stripped away his childhood;
he can't stand straight without
the primate's help. At night I jump
across his chest of hallucinations

to try to quell his incendiary sights
I watch, as devotion spills out a
glassine packet ; he savors this

opiate way much more than me.
This scene becomes my never ending
nightmare I watch
him put his love

Into his arm