My Magic Newlywed Neighbors

By on Oct 15, 2012 in Poetry

Dollhouse on stage with tiny couple

I still have not spoken to them.
I try, but they’re gone before my wave.
A magician’s act of flowers and mirrors. 

The wife appears out one upstairs window,
laughing, disappears, an invisible bird singing,
then flows out another, dreaming her hair down. 

One day, a pink pillow case flaps
its lewd humorous tongue at me, and at night
strange notes leap from their chimney to the moon. 

In the morning, the husband exits in a rush,
one shoe half off, then returns, bags
overflowing with wine bottles and celery. 

I keep waiting for him to race out a trap
door, his wife levitating over his head
like a balloon, the dark skies lush
with fish and loaves of wonder. 

Now and then, dancing, laughing footsteps
ghost up and down the stairs, and suddenly
my heart flutters into a dove. 

I decide the best applause is silence
when one evening she appears, blue nightgown,
picks up a sliver of bottle with two deft toes,
and spotting me, makes a gentle bow.


Sean Lause lives in Bluffton, Ohio, with his son Christopher and their cockatiel, Maria. His poems have appeared in The Minnesota Review, The Alaska Quarterly, Another Chicago Magazine, The Beloit Poetry Journal and Poetry International. His first book of poems, Bestiary of Souls, was published in 2013 by FutureCycle Press. His favorite poets are Emily Dickinson, Rimbaud, and The Ramones.