Dream Hauntings
by Odin Roark

"...Like the glow of star-dispelling lights
rising,
saturating air
from 5th Ave
to Trump Towers,
to the Bronx,
atop the bridges glinting brazen shouts.

"Hurt and pain guised as success,
a purulent throb of discharge,
woulda,
coulda,
shoulda,
now,
like always,
decorative wounds,
cover-ups
flung high over and through,
settling seasonally in Pennsylvania second homes,
where farm animals gaze from fields
at repeated history,
learned celebration,
suffer attainment's price.

"So it goes,” says conscience.

"Rising,
spreading,
oozing dream-blisters,
festering from forever frictions.
Id and ego,
smooth and calloused,
reduced to screams and laughter.

Have and have not antecedents
surviving now as a virus,
knowing not of antidote,
immunity prevention
long ago ignored for profit’s addiction.”

"Why is that Mother?"

"Like the book says, sweetheart...
see here, the illustration showing
barnyard animal-looking humans
all dressed in party finery
wondering what
to do now."

"Why are they wondering?"

"Like Mr. Orwell told the story long ago
followed by other writers confirming the warning."

"Is that what they're wondering about...warning?"

"Yes, dear."

She caresses her daughter's forehead
"Some things take a long time to learn."

"But we do learn them...right?"

"So innocent, you.
Sleep warm, daughter.
Please…sleep warmly
and see clearly tomorrow morning.”

In the respite of a conscious pillow,
the muffled sound of the mother’s dream utterance,
whispers forth, “If only it were that easy.”