Poem 539

A dream too cogent to be cured …

Another Little Chat

That dream
                         the one where I'm
climbing the mountain of
clothes soft and rolling up
to my knees in coats shirts
all sizes of dresses under
wear and odd shoes tumbling

down the sides feeling my
self sinking down into
the pile struggling only
getting myself deeper
suffocating under
the smell of clothes and see

ing no one to help me
no one around
                                no I
haven't had that dream for
months perhaps a year and
whatever the matron
says certainly not last night