To the Freudian Psychologist Who Would
Help Me Analyze My Nightmare,
I know it wants to get closer
to breathe a hot, noiseless breath
I try to make screams
but they come out low moans
only I hear me say it’s almost here now
I try to tell my mother from under my lids
a shapeless shape wants to touch my skin
and my unseeing body orients itself in the direction
of her voice breaking over the battle inside
her hand touching mine and coaxing me home
I’m still not there yet, that voice bringing me in

Dawn Tefft | Mudlark No. 29
Contents | Dear Children’s Books