JANUARY POETRY

Dream father

Ellie Hastings

In my nightmare my father

is holding me

down. I am stuck

for air, he is spitting in my face.

I don’t know what

I did – broke a cup,

forgot to vacuum,

fell asleep

in the wrong place.

You wake me

from my fit

and I am unhinged

by my illusion. I know

this is really a memory, but

you are holding me together

in your arms

and I know I have returned

to safety. I know I can sleep again.

In the morning

when you ask me what happened

in my dream,

I don’t want to tell you.

I know you will imagine your kindness

as hurt. You will turn your love

into a monster. You will think

your hold is the same

as the nightmare’s. And I am afraid

that you won’t believe

your love is saving.

Ellie Hastings | Windsor |  2016