Martin Elster 

A Preschooler Dwelleth Above

I fell asleep at 3:00 a.m.,
And when I was in deepest REM
A boulder from a cloud of lead
Hit the floor above my bed.

Every hair rose on my hide
As though a yeti got inside,
The panic-stricken face of night
Fled and left the room too light,

And dreams I had of steamy trysts
Faded like the morning mists.
Was it a boot, a building block,
Or Punch & Drop that made that knock?

Although he wakes me up each day
With toys like titans rough at play,
I always get to bed too late
And, consequently, don’t get eight

Hours of sleep, or even four.
I will get back at him. It’s war!
I’ll make him hear what he inspired.
(Well, maybe not. I’m way too tired.)