A Dream of the Barren

She is a sweet dream

caught in a net

as if she was a

monstrous nightmare.

What bough broke

and dropped her

from the heights of glory?

She is a sweet dream,

built by misunderstood

prayer and words on paper

and the distance of mirage.

Ten fingers and tens toes

that will never grow.

 

Her father was a lie.

 

She was a sweet dream—

a sweet smoke like

wafting incense

caught in a wind

and carried away to

some fertile place

not my own.

Advertisements

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

%d bloggers like this: