Matchstick dreams

Being dragged
by the scruff of my neck
through a farrago insane
towards fabled fields
by beasts that were once
my wings

trailing thorns
inject heparin
to keep the venom surging
leaving bloody dots
Join the barbs
An outlined dream
under a mouldy tree

Watching meekly
as Life plucks
from synastry-tattooed palms
some  broken toys
that were my world
not long ago
See them in moments
when eyes forget to close

A cliff rears
out of a sleeping sea
blotting out a weary  sun
I stumble back nonplussed
No firm ground to tread
wrenching bluish toes
from a squelchy mire of
murmuring undergrowth

They snort
My flapping horses
Pawing at a lighted patch
of pure vitriol
showing me the bend
where a footpath beckons
Walking towards it
thorns become an arch
to a matchstick house
faraway from home.
©Reena Prasad  March 2012

(Published poem: Just A Dream, Barry Mowles and Friends)2012