Cat Nap

by Lois Linkens and Christine Ray

catnap

 

sleep stalks me, finds me an easy target

slinks in to drag me under, into the depths
where unknown dangers lurk in my unconscious
what murkiness lies behind my drooping lashes,
what shadows hide between each whistling breath?
what sharpness snuggles buried
among the feathers in my pillow,
what traps will soon ensnare
and dangle me, just feet from death?

they hook me, by the ankle
and suspend me from the tree of dreams,
around which serpents rattle, tigers prowl,
insects scuttle, poisonous, foul.
blood rushing to my head
cheeks flushed
heart thundering
as i dangle helpless

great cats bat their armored paws
at my flailing hair
like beggars round a campfire.
their claws pull and snag –
draw drops of blood
that quench night blooming jasmine
waiting below

i wake with a start. temples throb and pulse,
the bed is dry as my parched throat, blankets cold.
perhaps a girl
can be herself without the hair of fairytales.

 

 

Lois describes herself as a “confused english student,” though one quickly finds a polished, charming poet in her work. She has an elegant style that compliments her keen insight and whimsical sensibilities. It is a pleasure to present her work, and we ask you to take a second to look at more of her wonderful work, lois e.linkens

Christine Ray writes for Brave and Reckless and is a member of Sudden Denouement.  She is also curator at Blood Into Ink and barista at Go Dog Go Cafe.  She is an aspiring badass.

 

Teresa’s Dream-S Francis/SailorPoet Guest Blog

Dreams tell the viewer something he must face

Inside living moments, as if passing through.

Tell me, Freud, if strangers blindfold me, demand

I embrace the tree as they shoot me from behind,

A firing squad, what should I make of this dream?

 

Detail: the jury of one, my trust, I

Spared.

The foolish squad walks off into the misty edge

Of the dream, swinging their rifles like golf clubs.

I embrace the tree like an apple seed.

 

When these dreams slip outside their subconscious

Frame living moments, just passing through,

Tell me, Freud, if I am the stranger blindfolding myself,

Do I deserve pardon, or should they tie me to the tree

Whip me for the crimes I commit?

 

Detail: the jury of one, my trust, I

Cannot spare

My consequence, walking to the misty edge of dreams

Guns still pointing at the center of my heart,

Like life looking to drop its seed.


S Francis writes at SailorPoet and is the creative alter ego of a career naval officer.

 

 

i don’t – samantha lucero

i don’t.

i don’t remember if i ever loved myself.

but all alone i loved, once.

i’ve slept naked, a tiger with nightmares, an animal on a leash in a burrow of fevers. night’s where i woke up & couldn’t move, because no matter where i left your memories, they found a tunnel back into my chest.

another dusk with double-espresso van gogh & it burns my drowsy throat to know the fluorescent pictures tacked to the back of my eyelids like postcards that sunk with the titanic, wish you were here, are reaching for me from that hole forever.

before my eyes were stolen & my mouth was packed with soil, i’d have a yellow american spirit & think of freedom.

those were the days. those were my days. those  w e re.

& now they’re not & never will again.