I have a dream about once a month from the point of view of a small girl, running shoeless from a strangler in the cold autumn mud.
I make it to a wooded area and try to hide in a ditch, frantically concealing my bright dress and white tights with leaves.
He finds me every time, and sometimes I don’t wake up from the horror of his approach. That’s how I know he’s a strangler.
the strangler
bold, though i knew not
just where the hook caught
trenching pain in place.
cold, though the sunshine
cut through a bruised vine
deep in velvet space
slow, though my lungs fought
thick glue and blood clot
wrapped in neon grace
i sleepwalk all night
and never save you.
i wake up each day
and never escape.
don’t leave me where
i cannot find you,
where demons prey
my sordid dreams
