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Father's Dreams

for me

By Timothy James LanePublished 2 years ago 1 min read
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father had dreams for me

dreams now written in dust

on the funeral pamphlet

deepening the affair with empty space

my thoughts sit abandoned

and heavy with sleep

the inner flame still pierces

and I could tell you of it's rending

the sterile, white walls, around the garden

of my mother's jealousy

the impermanence of the flowers

pearl green carpets and empty bells

the broken clock above the hearth

a knock at the door

the thump of a stunned sparrow

against the bay window

signaling nature's growing mistrust

a whimper from the weathervane

as I learn to forget my own dreams

when I wake

the crows dismember the sky

black thoughts

black tears

black saliva

snatches of insipid winter music

and the twisted face of the liar

in the dark I find myself unabashed

all is naked

all is white

my tears roll through space

the alabaster handle of dad's switchblade

now set so far from away the sea

I wake only when touched

it's far too cold to move tonight

all of my family is light years away

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

Timothy James Lane

Sea Ghost

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