
I wake up naked,
nothing protects me from the nightmare emotions
I’ve been dreaming of a dead man who is awarding prizes for poetry
I might be a winner but I don’t like it.
I thought he was dead I cried
But no they said that isn’t true although it’s now 57 years since he swallowed the aspirins
Where has he been, what has made him a judge a poetry but he never heard any?
Everybody’s looking he doesn’t seem embarrassed by his absence or his presence.
How can you be here like this I asked him but he smiled and did not speak,
He’s been following my blog from purgatory.
I tell him I don’t need you now, and when I did need you you failed me.
I am a different person now every cell in my body is different from what it was when you were alive.
So you’ve been reading poetry have you?
Is there a newspaper or a magazine that people up there could read or is it pure speculation.
I might have got an answer but I woke up.
When I’m dress my clothes seem to make a protective barrier around my heart so that the nightmare is less violence in its effect.
I’ve got my husband’s wool vest to give me aid. I hope he won’t come back as
Professor of mathematics because it was not do anything for me now yes he was envious.
A pitythat you can’t enjoy your own wifes talents.
We shouldn’t need to put others down to make ourselves feel better.
Unfortunately we do
