DREAM 1000
Familiar old duvets,
cache night’s playtime,
Freeing want, need and fear.
The youngest son
can’t be found.
Frenzied in the streets,
dark neighborhoods,
recognition gone.
Hiding in alleys,
hooded goons,
Chase me.
The visits,
from Daddy,
that gorgeous face,
even in death.
Silently smiles
at the girl he watches.
Solely,
walking amongst
the lovely dead,
or fiends of life.
Dreams, familiar yet new,
bitter, sweet or sour.
The phone I cannot dial.
The clock I cannot stall.
The lover I cannot keep.
Until I awaken,
Found, embraced, safe.
Beth Schorr Jaffe
11/24/18
