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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Sprung from Grief” Down in the Dirt, v184 (the June 2021 Issue) Order the paperback book:

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Nightmare

Heather Sager

Cornering me upon a nighttime street
he shows a temper of reddest rage
a so-called lover (really, a monster) rising up
with his angry eye
He racks me on his cruel wheel,
torture and gloat.

And yet through my demise
I still see the concrete animals
of thankful beyond.
The bats and birds that
buttress the gray legs
of history. They carry me
on their wings

In dreams within dreams I go to the cafe
that smells of burnt coffee.
I want, most of all, to hold hands with a kind someone
and to feel inviolable. But no

I don’t feel shielded. Not even up here,
in the wings.

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