He sleeps sickly.
His mind devolves and expands,
protracted without him.

Sleep is a dirge.
Preceding milestones,
running before learning
to walk.

Talking sleep.
Teaching ghosts
just like him
about real nightmares
and real consequences.

We are together, now.
Nothing but dust between us.
Still wide-eyed and unsettled.

©2013 Jessica Stephenson All Rights Reserved


About inpotentia

Hold Fast.
This entry was posted in Domestic Violence, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to

  1. Kyle says:

    Great language in this. Feels cool on the tongue.


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