I guess I wasn’t ready
For your attitude.
Not smug, but satisfied.
There was a face of hate
in my dream.
So blank and calm
but hating as a mongrel
For two nights
it sat in the dream corner
soundless and still
not frightening
I was not frightened
I knew it was you.
Your harmless contempt
Has become my familiar.
And I don’t run from it
I just turn away.
Back to my dreaming.
I must not satisfy
Your silent desire
to bring me to nightmares.
Go on dreaming
dreaming, dreaming
Don’t look
don’t shudder
don’t fear or submit
to the hate
the placid menacing
of that dream face
gargoyle you.
(c) Tasha Chinnock 2007
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