Out Of The Body At Coppelia

by Aidan Andrew Dun

copp

 

The velvet-lined
precipitous theatre
is a type of womb.
It seems a deep red palace
full of visions, with chandeliers
like spangled galaxies
we’ve seen in the curled sleep.

Now the eccentric doctor
strange oceanographer
of this dream world
walks incongruously
while toy maidens
dance with the life
he’s given them.
Laboriously he turns
in his bed.

The attic shudders.
January winds
pirouette wildly
their only partners
cumbersome
chimney pots.

The child floating
in the red ocean
claps his hands:
Oh look at them!
The toymaker’s girls
on fire!

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