Dream Catcher

Dream Catcher You hang crookedly from the white plastic hook, swaying slightly to the west. Caught to catch. Five cheaply dyed feathers splayed from winged birds My dime-store exotic. Amber, red and gold Colors of fire, passionate sun. Colors of purpose. Dead birds now. Was this their dream? To hang near my window Catching dust and kitchen bacon grease? The vibrancy of temporary color disappearing forgotten with age You do have movement though, those 2 inches back and forth. Back and forth Not much for flight Not much for sight Or dreams. Your five cowry shells Ransom For all my desires. What powers do you possess In your woven macramé to make this life Something more Than simply caught or bought or hung? First published: Page & Spine