In the Confines of a Dream

In the Confines of a Dream By Sy Roth Their skin touches mine Hair on end in the cold, tickling, Vibrating with amoebic fear on an endless loop. I could not look. They braved separation from each other, Buttock to buttock, fearful of the trap Where shame brays an insulting reality Nascent scents buried in their catacomb. Then a quiet and God’s name echoes in their canyon Hear me. Hear me! And the eye above peers, a blue orb. If it could smile, it did. The dream is long, an arduous journey, Skins now cling to other skins And long grooves are etched in it Hieroglyphs of people predisposed to perish. In the darkness, they find Jacob’s ladder And the angel offers no consolation, wrestling with words Hear me! Hear me! He hears not And the screams are a balm to the others. The azure eye above seals fate in their catafalque-- In brief remembrance of the host and their parsec of loss, The conclusion, an electric denouement, a splash of exhalation, A remote offering to the gods of fire. I saw them, the cleansing men. I parked above the heap In sordid indifference to their bestiality Clinging to the apex of our nightmare.