Sleeping In A Time Of War

sleeping in a time of war
we drew our knees up to the dreams
that faltered, striving to appear

then reappear and the volleys, in-between,
over the fields dispersed their mists
searing the mystic flowers to their depths

and are we sleeping in a time of war?
or resting between intervals of
what we lost, retraced again

and floating up on the screen
we call our minds now or maybe there
is no we, there's only you or I

half sleeping in a time of war
clawing the moonlight that is left
and running away from death

in all its guises,
watching the news, and shallow breathed
and staving off our faces full of reveries,

in antique mirrors above
old bureaus where silk sorrows are absorbed;
the ghost telegrams we ignored,

the messages from the dead.

mary angela douglas 14 june 2016