The Nightmare

The boundaries between mist and light,
time and dreams, seems porous, slight
in memories, thoughts dim, but feelings brighten
not where or when, but why we’re frightened
in the night, death comes close, as senses heightened
to scream beware—

before you vanish from that liminal space
where hours dash, and you wear another’s face
knowing you are you but not, and you forgot
to take a test or you’re lost, or haven’t brought
that thing, you know–or maybe not,
but where

do you go in this maze of a house,
and who is he, surely not your spouse–
but oh, what’s he’s doing feels so good,
and you think you shouldn’t, you wouldn’t, but you would
until they stare,

the people, they’re monsters, with giant teeth
and what is that, behind the door, beneath
the bed, not Grandmom, not husband, or lover,
scary creatures, they grimace, and hover
and you…