DEFEATED DREAMS
Dead dreams arise without coaxing
Our of the graves in the brain,
Open their pale eyelids,
stare with white eyes.
Each skeleton wears a white crown with pearls.
Each hand of bone holds
A wand with the magic tip broken off.
The other hand of bone holds
A scrap from a wine-stained shirt.
Duane Locke
Posted over on SF Salvo
No comments:
Post a Comment