Grief’s (surreal) Dream

His whispers first caress
her body’s field
like apple blossoms
covered in bees.

And then,
she sees flames come,
come licking scarlet vines
across his back,
commemorating sleep’s inevitability,
vicious and unforgiving.

A severed pair expects
no spare moments,
no moments to share
behind a smoke

Until . . .

Save me in bits, she prays.

His screams strike might
like irons against time’s silent crescendo,
while her heated flesh whispers
and wakes her
to the dizzying scent
of apple blossoms buzzing.

Brenda Warren 2014

This one came rather quickly. It is not autobiographical, but grief imagined. There is a lot left unsaid. My imagination fills it with story, and I hope yours hooks into the piece, too.

I used “strike” instead of “struck.”

Visit The Sunday Whirl

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23 thoughts on “Grief’s (surreal) Dream

  1. visually stunning words that captured me by surprise…… blossoms’ bees with love sprinkled in flames…. “…save me in bits…” thinking thoughts with wings… lovely…


  2. this poem is explosive, passionate grief. That second stanza is strong!
    licking scarlet vines across his back….woah! Thank goodness for sweet apple blossoms and being saved in bits…Powerful write, Brenda. Very powerful.


  3. I’ve read this poem several time…not because I have to but because I want to. There are so many delights here from whispers to blossoms.

    Like Marianne, I’m willing to help out, too. If you’d like a list of words, just let me know!


  4. Gorgeous writing, Brenda! I love this:
    “Until . . .
    Save me in bits, she prays.”

    The Whirl is a testament to you, a strong, kind, caring woman. Thank you for keeping it going. Is there a way we can assist you, to somehow lighten your load?


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