Roxie Has Harlan Ellison Dreams

Roxie Has Harlan Ellison Dreams

Never one to have memorable dreams
or to waken in nights of delicate terror,
Roxie was shocked when she
began having nightmares and
terror not at all delicate.

At first she blamed the new
strange wine that had grown
increasingly popular with people like her,
those lost somewhere
in the land of the pale horse.

She dreamt of Edgar's raven
leading her along claustrophobic routes
that only a deathbird could find.
Upon awakening she would
remember visions of herself,
face down, in Gloria Swanson's
swimming pool.

At times, on those nights without a moon,
she would be at the mouse circus,
where huge mice sold angry candy apples
and cotton candy as dark as the
Halloween midnights
of her childhood.

In the center ring
sat the man on the mushroom,
the mice surrounding him
gnawing at the protective fungi.
With each of a million bites,
the nibbled stool
brought the him closer
to eager rodent mouths.
Roxie knew that soon would come
the thick red moment.

Fear would paralyze her when
she felt the spiders kiss upon her face
as the whimper of whipped dogs
filled her bedroom,
her every orifice covered
in gossamer enclosures.
As she tried to evolve
from the hellfire raging in her nightmind
she would scream in thrashing movements
and come awake in the sweat drenched
frightpuddles that come
only with the darkest of nights.

In the daylight she would think
of moving back to Boston
where the boys from Minuteman High School
used to call her Maggie Moneyeyes because
her family was rich
and her eyes were as big
as half dollars.
Yes, back to Boston, back to
before living became
it's own nightmare
and fear was the stranger
lurking around the Commons.

Bobbie Kilzer Gogain