of a nightmare.

When the lights go out

in all the homes

along the street--

When the sheets

are finally warm

around my feet--

The darkness seeps in

and

the Sandman's sand

settles like silt

in the murky riverbed

of my sleep

and

there in the bed--

the riverbed--

the creeping

terrors swim past

brushing against my thigh

the pain there

then gone

and

lurking just out of my reach

in the cold swirling darkness.

And when I wake up

all that's left--

a ghost of a memory of a nightmare.