I close my eyes and tuck myself into my soft blanket
And before long, I feel something nudging my hand.
And there it stands, a horse—a black beauty so intricate;
Something quant about her: it’s like she belongs to another land
Far away beyond this plane of existence. And neighing,
She stares at me like a well-trained race horse looking for her rider.
As I shrug my reluctance away, I stand on my bed and, jumping,
Get myself on her back. Tame at first, she goes wild—and wilder.
I held on to her tight, my fingers gripping into her flesh.
Raging, oh, she picks up speed! Old graveyards and abandoned schools,
Desolate shrines and run-down parks—all in my memory so fresh
“By God, make her stop!”—my only thought as I cry like a fool.
Through fingers’ failing strength, I lost my grip on her and backward
I fell to my tight bed. Still sweating I still feel my fingers digging deep
Into the night mare’s back; I tuck myself into the blanket, dead awkward
Like a lost child finding his way home; having nowhere to comfortably sleep.