Every Single Night

Every Single Night

Every single night
I wait for them to come again,
to appear out of the deepest shadows
at the oak foot of my bed;
the two blue dwarfs and the taller Gray,
easily entering my room
without using the door,
standing still in the silence, azure
in the moonlight, waiting
until I notice them, and then moving
beside me on both sides, just as
ruby molecules, tiny insane red dust mites
shimmering, push the moonlight aside
allowing a beastly beam to explode
through my ceiling
bathing me in blood light,
leaving me shaking,
conscious, angry, and frightened—yes,
every time fear carves up my guts cold
like an icicle scalpel opening up my chest—
leaving me breathless and stiff
as matter separates and I pass through
my bed covers, rising slowly
like a party balloon,
rising, rising toward the ceiling
and then traveling past it
as if it were made of smoke—
suddenly outside suspended
in the chill night air,
the sky bristling with brilliance, rising
more quickly up to embrace the black belly
of the silver craft hovering unseen
fifty yards above my house,
and then total darkness
along with that terrible and familiar hum;
only to awaken moments later
sitting up in my sweat-drenched blankets
cursing the reoccurring dream,
or perhaps the actual violation
of my carnate husk
by beings from beyond;
with reality bending
like a mirage snake tying itself
into a savage valentine,
my posterior hurting like I had been
the unwilling participant
in a prison gang bang,
and my sad soul reattaching
its wings.

Glenn Buttkus March 2010