Doug Anderson: Company

She left him food and locked him in the house
to go to work. No blame, no money
for a sitter and in any case
there were these beings who’d come out
when she’d gone. That one sylph
with the long blowing hair who’d stroke his face
and hold him when he slept. And the little
demon with all the mirrors from whom
he fled to draw: what monsters bled
from the pencil lead. But that one sylph,
Neptune’s angel that graced the bow
whatever storm and wherever he was going
was steady on, undimmed by the burning salt.

Copyright 2019 Doug Anderson

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Photo by Doug Anderson