by Scott Curley
sitting dismal
cold open
slate stone sitting, watching
the cacophonous howling of a dream’s last breath
the drunken beast swaggers from its hole
manic grin of a madman
the shots ring out in the motionless night
the air is still
ears are ringing while you sleep
dreaming of a place that’s home
where all’s welcome and
the dreams that scream are nowhere you can hear
and your eyes are glued to pictures of
your innocence whored for a billboard
in the plaza
and you let it in
but the scream is still there and
you’ll hear
it
and nothing else
the crash of monoliths tumbling to the ground
lying in their own filth
and the dream hangs on
and it still screams in the bold and open black of solid night
as we whisper about it in closed corridors and the last thing we hear before it stops is
the frozen breath of eternity creeping its way back from where we thought to bury it
look at the moon…
there are no stars…
I feel a chill creeping in…
Curley is entering his second year at Paul Smith’s College, and is a junior majoring in Wildlife Management.