Warnings, for a New Year Emma Bartley
When you asked to come back I gave you the sunny portion of last week’s dream: As small as I am now in a big wedding dress heavy eyelids, sitting in your lap, kissing & ready in my parent’s backyard. With this you were relieved and I was proud & grinning down at my job. But minutes later a man insane, I guess appeared from total darkness and chased us out of the park. He was calling the police he was yelling out These suckers! and, sure enough today there is someone new who is helping me pick out the Christmas gifts for my family. In the hotel bar, my mother is gushing over the fake candles. Incredibly clever! then, suddenly How is he? I don’t know that in a week we’ll decide to stop speaking. Well, I always knew & fingering the paper flame she conjures up the rest of that dream: She enters, and I look up to collect her joy. I am instantly petrified instead. Her glare -you needed to see it
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american literary magazine