Page 137 - Dark Matter Women Witnessing

but never look into.

The lid lifts. A giant

white salamander slips out,

quickly hiding where

he can’t be found.

Of this earth, yet not

of this earth—a hidden

life, untended, survives

on air, and finally stirs.

Someone holds a gun

to my head. I am strangely

calm despite the threat,

the cold kiss of the barrel,

the menacing strangers

in an unknown room, doing

what they think they must—

what I think they must—

since this is my dream.

Or is it?

I feel something

dreaming outside me,

an ether of swirls and eddies,

a rushing stream of intent.

Somewhere the salamander

waits, careful teacher,

patient survivor—

pale as the ash of a pyre,

fearsome arbiter of fate.