in the dream a Wild Voice said
this is a pocket door
YOU
slide in there now
I answered
I'm sorry
(why am I so sorry?)
I don't want to and
I don't think I will fit
in the fog a lost coyote howled
and I knew I too was lost
sliding into the pocket door
was my cost
now hide
the Dream Voice vilely commanded
I don't think
I said to It
I want to understand this
You will
It said
all too soon enough:
this is your corner
the place where your pain has placed you
its the spot now where I have shamed you
its your new dark world
your solemn secret spot
I think...Its bright teeth sparked and gleamed
(its all you've really got)
I don't like You
I told the Dream Voice
Your tone's insincere and mean
if You recommend this pocket door so much
maybe its actually meant for You
It is you this is Your Dream
the forlorn coyote howled even louder
but I turned and snarled
and the pocket door disappeared
like a poof of grey cinder-laden snow
sifting sideways into a pool of melting black
I looked upon myself with regret
and disgust
and wondered at how I lacked
and then
I woke up
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3:17am PST 8-1-2019 time/date stamped
AND ALSO FOR THIS AUTHOR/POET/WRITE
MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS
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