A Stranger in What I Hope Was a Dream

A Stranger in What I Hope Was a Dream

Emma Louise Miller

A slim shadow of a man appears

illuminated by the silver of the moon

and crouching on the concrete curb,

hands wrestling with blood poppies

and hyacinth bruising the grass.

A forest of leafy spikes curls around us and pushes me forward-

a blur of green, eggshell, blue, rust and

suddenly I’m behind him, close enough to touch and close enough to hear

gentle sobs and

see tears seasoning the pavement.

I reach out, fingers grasping gently at his hood until it falls down and

he seems familiar but

he doesn’t turn to look at me.

Silent for now, still facing the ground,

he points to the stars with his little finger

and out crawls a drawled rasp-

up there-

he asks,

as my ears drip red

and metal coats my tongue,

is that Your god?

is this what is inside You?

so many points to Your stars-

stuck in Your eyes,

it looks like it would hurt.

You look nothing like it.

are You the nothing in between?

He is pointing at me now,

gaze still glued to the ground.

I take his hand, empty and stained with red and violet-

It stains mine too.

It feels cold, I grow numb, he feels nothing,

he lets go,

first.

it was nice to meet You, goodbye.

where will You go now?

Enter Death,

Exeunt not a soul.

At Rest - Nicole Weyer