The Surrealist Napping

The pewter plate beside his chair 

an exhausted morning hung on its hook

newly rendered Jesus Christ.

Between thumb and forefinger a

dangled over armrest.

A momentary luminous crux of sleep
transfixed by memory

his body stretched and gessoed,
worthy moments layered upon

each over each.

The spoon slip
a hole in the moment

waves upon the molten lake.

Imagine the spoon trapped, unsound
above the plate,

the painter’s clapper eye 
unhooked from its

bell, rung a hovering promise,

eclipsed by the body
before it in the sky.

Terry Bain is the author of You Are a Dog and We Are the Cat
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