Elizabeth's dream
by Gail
Every night for a year of springs he watched me
through the bare bedroom window.
There was nothing I could do. It was a dream.
Remember how your feet dragged, how the murderer
tore open your heart over and over again
until the cat clawed you free with his demands for breakfast.
One night he planted a rosebush that only
bloomed for him, and plucked one flower's petals
as I put on my white nightgown.
He wanted something that I was not allowed
to understand; I only knew that
when it was time, he would take it.
One night, he walked one step closer to the wall,
and the thorns pierced his flesh,
sucked him into its roots. He did not struggle.
Now the stems frame my window, the flowers have his eyes,
the leaves his hands. I know what he wants.
This time I will have to rescue myself.
