In a night as blackened as tar,
through the clanking metal blinds
stripes of light seep
up the walls of my bedroom.
Dangling from the ceiling fan,
feathers and string and beads.
like a masterfully crafted spider’s web.
A net meant to catch the bad dreams
buzzing in the air like gnats
circling above a motionless body.
I thought you were supposed to catch the bad ones.
Mom said you would catch the nightmares,
yet you unleash them from the stables of the mind.
Galloping through the night with fiery eyes
stampeding through a silent night.
Often, I open my eyes to a dreary day and mistake reality
for the doppelgangers you introduced in my sleep.
There has to be some weaving witch
cackling over her magic imbued loom,
Satisfied in the irony of the whole situation:
A dream catcher that lives up to its name.
It catches dreams, alright.
And it never gives them back.