Cross
It’s that dream again
Caught by the mad happiness of flight
Shortly before my teeth and
eyes have gone missing
She’s watching
Streaks of red
hair. blood. heart. memories.
Her geese are leaving
She is leaving
Broken promises remembered
Forgiveness rendered maudlin
Too much
Always too much
Until I am hiding under my bed
Trying not to breathe
Blending into bras, socks, dustbunnyscapes
Forget.
—Deb Castellano
Brigid's Cross
photo by Xuk
