dreamcatcher
A. H. Lewi s
Those sighs are trapped
in these walls and yet
they ring hollow until nighttime
when sleep is a hand around my throat
and nightmares are mangled
burial grounds of my own making.
Someday the echoes of that name
will be lost forever to the skies
where they’ll weave a dream catcher
out of moonlight. I await that display
so I may rest peacefully at last,
when the images of slumber become
as weightless as stars
and the only sensation on my neck
is a soft pair of lips
in a gentle kiss goodnight.
31
Cauldron Anthology