at me while I awaken.
A child in a short cotton dress,
rosy pink with grass stains on the hem,
clasps her hand in another’s
as they cross the street,
a line of children daring traffic.
Her partner lets go.
Her hand slips to the pavement,
dusty sand burrows in her knees.
Sprouts of blood dampen the gravely ground
and the car that’s approaching doesn’t stop.
Doesn’t stop.
The edges of the dream are fading.
The shadow of the car
that brushed my consciousness
has driven away.
The driver permitted one slow last gaze,
my eyes are blurry from slumber
and I cannot recognize the face.
Heidi Slettedahl is an academic and a US-UK dual national who goes by a slightly different name professionally. She is hoping to live up to her potential now that she is over 50. She has been published in a variety of online literary journals (including Red Eft Review).
Her hand slips to the pavement,
dusty sand burrows in her knees.
Sprouts of blood dampen the gravely ground
and the car that’s approaching doesn’t stop.
Doesn’t stop.
The edges of the dream are fading.
The shadow of the car
that brushed my consciousness
has driven away.
The driver permitted one slow last gaze,
my eyes are blurry from slumber
and I cannot recognize the face.
Heidi Slettedahl is an academic and a US-UK dual national who goes by a slightly different name professionally. She is hoping to live up to her potential now that she is over 50. She has been published in a variety of online literary journals (including Red Eft Review).
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