“Space Witch, Thief of Dreams” by Thomas L. Winters

“Space Witch, Thief of Dreams” by Thomas L. Winters

Space Witch, Thief of Dreams

A cold begins
to kiss my feet.
Wades on up,
up carceral shell.
Rescinds my dreams
for formless vogue.
I sleekly slide
the Witch’s tongue.

Basil swamps ascend
in whirls. And
swathes in swirls,
those purplest whorls.
The Witch’s Eye a slime,
maligns. Cricks,
grows peep-groves—did I
just die?

A rupture in the walls
of holy halls.
Men, a priest;
ten hundred faces
watching me, menace-wan.
Their grease is run; yeast.
I yield and ride
the Witch’s lung.

Round up all the sims
Her mission swims.
Assimilate my whims
Her witting hymns.
Indeed, I am
Her treasure trove—
crystal saccharine star rats
dream-prince palindrome.

Creosote on Planet Ziu.
Skulldust-romance smells,
Ciacco’s bells
long due. In Her
belly, castles stagger.
Bitches pomade locks
fondue, Devil’s House
on Third and Jagger.

I say “Doll-maker, hey!
Pallbearer of my
Night-to-Day—please
witness Mercy’s weeping
curtsy, have a heart
be made!” I hear no
whispering groan, no
validating marmalade pique.

Space is thick
with cosmopolitan elephants;
polyps cyclopean rolling
thunder in tendril thumbs;
polished not by Suns
it blinds me so
my dreams become cathedral
for Her bosom’s Tenebrae.

 

 


Thomas L. Winters is a writer born and raised in Ontario who mainly writes poetry and fiction, with a sharp interest in the surreal, the macabre, the criminally swept under the rug. He’s currently working on his first chapbook, a collection of dark poems inspired by dreams.

Category : Issue Seven December 2017 Tags :

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