A Midwinter Nights Dream Poem by Mark Honan

'Ring here for old tarts' told the bell on the bar
So I chimed it and here's what I saw
A sallow old lady in high heels and bra
Claw up through a hole in the floor

Old tarts from cupboards and under the stair
Came stretching and leering and prancing
They gave me small insects they'd picked from their hair
And a lavender scent had me dancing

A walking frame crone wagged a finger at me
I pranced up with a cheerful hello
From her cavernous eyes she'd started to cry
And a puddle did ripple bellow

Old hags were weeping in bright coloured streams
As the customers took off their coats
They danced with the tarts ‘neath the old wooden beams
Whilst the tears splashed sweet musical notes

Now the bartender asked me politely but firm
For the insects I held in my hand
'These don't belong in our world, these grubs and this wyrm
Soon they'll change. You must understand.'


He placed them down and they started to grow
As they suckled the pores of the floor
They became such strange creatures I dare not describe
And they stalked and they rolled through the door

The bartender then put his head on the bar
To let breathing flowers grow from his hair
They sang of the south as they burst from his mouth
To languor on insubstantial air

Now the customers, barman and ladies held hands
And raising their faces up high
Sang so sweetly to me in a strange harmony
Of their lives in times long gone by

'Time gentlemen please' tolled the bell on the bar
So the customers put on their coats
The way they had done for many long years
Then they climbed into small paper boats

I looked round to speak but the bar was now bare
And the floor was as dry as a comb
The bartender grinned, wiped his hands through his hair
Softly whispered 'I've just been called home'

He smelled of Purple and Green as he put on his coat
With yellow bone buttons behind
A long slender bean shoot curled out from his throat
With 'Old Tarts' inked on dried lemon rind


Everything faded as I passed through the door
On that enchanted night long ago
'Ring here for old tarts' was the last thing I saw
As I melted and mixed with the snow