WHat a NigHtMaRe



Night Sweats


I meet him in a meadow. Once,

often twice a year. He is familiar

now, like a teddy bear from childhood,

forgotten until you see its withered fur again.


Darkness. Only a shadow, his face

never been seen. Tall, waist-length grass

surrounds us. Staring at the silhouette

of one another. He lifts the mechanical


blade. The motor starts, smoke clouds. I run,

run from the high pitch scream of the chainsaw.

Meadow turns to forest. Trunks to hide

but roots to trip over. The roar


is deafening. Exhaust fills my nose,

I choke, gag. Hot breath rests

on the back of my neck. I turn

and I wake.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s