a stockpile of prayers

 

 what did you dream of last night?


 it must have been a hell of a dream
 you kicked at the walls
 and bit the air
 punched the pillows
 pulled my hair
  
 do you remember anything?

 you cursed at invisable wings
 and mumbled about a red dress
 black shoes
 shiney black shoes
 high heeled
 maybe vinyl
 might have been leather
 you were mad at things
 out of your control
 like the past
 and the fucking weather
 your Mum's final words
 your father's letter

you woke up
and held me tight
i kissed your forehead
and in your sweat
i tasted the fright of
a hundred years of
broken promises
and rotten memories
of rotten people
of rotten gods
of earth
and the sky above
of dying stars
in pitch black bars

after awhile
you went back to sleep
I held you
much like soldiers
hold on to memories
of  war crimes
and foxholes
on the riviera.


-Alfred Huete
18 January 2011