The Dreams I Don’t Remember

The dreams I don’t remember
disturb me:
my mother’s mink coat, 
thrown on the floor,
over something.
That lover in the closet,
offering disinterested kindnesses.
The flowered skirt
I never wore.

All memories of failures
or escapes.

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