pillow wet with night

Rooted under eyelids
lost images of pursuit
fled through bedded gardens
where smiling sycophants fawned a preacher
who locked the gate behind me.
Deadly and benign.

Waiting for a sign
he chuckled
and looked toward his god.
Undignified and holy.
He slammed me down.

My face became a radish.
Its roots sought water through the dirt.

Brenda Warren 2020



5 thoughts on “pillow wet with night

  1. Used to have repetitive nightmares as a child and some remained into adulthood. Finally learned how to work with the dream material and they don’t occur anymore. Your details are haunting Brenda, but make for a great poem…



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