In the Night

Last night I had a nightmare. I might re-create the conditions – too much coffee too near to bedtime, freshly laundered sheets smelling of lemon verbena – if it meant another poem scrawled through gummy eyes by bathroom light.

The windstorm that is your breath in my ear
when I’ve woken from a nightmare.
On my back, clammy with fear, your body
circles mine like two links of chain;
heavy limbs wound tight as sheets I
might’ve drenched if the dream had
been allowed to run its course.
Instead I stir fevered from bed, eyes
peeled as grapes or slivers of tape, hoping
to stay awake long enough to avoid going
down that dark stair into someone else’s
leaden arms.

I haven’t written poetry seriously in years. My mother keeps a book of it I wrote in junior high school, a single dumb verse to a page, and I think it’s best that’s as near as she comes to my imagination.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “In the Night

  1. pennyjars

    “My mother keeps a book of it I wrote in junior high school, a single dumb verse to a page…”

    My sister has a similar book from me. I’d love to strike out like a coiled snake and steal it back.

    How does it feel to write it again?

    Reply
    1. The Girl Post author

      It felt strange and a little like a dream itself! I wrote it when I was half-asleep, which seems like the best time for my brain to process verse.

      I could see you doing just that.

      Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s