Nightmare [poem]

A familiar face hovers at the horizon of consciousness—
It is 4 am and the house sleeps.
I am awakened by a memory that has come
Trespassing into my dream.
My pulse an angry fish, desperate to jump out of its net of veins.

These are the eyes that envision a past coldly,
Without remorse.
This is the mind that unfurls itself wildly,
Conjuring up a host of ghosts.

What is this face, this abstract jigsaw
With eyes where the mouth should be?
What is its name? What color its voice?
I begin to recall.

This is the memory I had confidently drowned
Five fathoms deep, come suddenly to surface;
It drives cruel fangs into my heart
And I learn what pain is again.

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