[Inspired by Gabriel Fauré’s “Après un rêve”:]
Each morning had become an obstacle,
returning hurdle to overcome.
Simply opening her eyes to the morning sun
warmed not the chill inside, the knowing
that their love had perished, come undone.
The dream, on nightmarish repeat, had told her that.
Come, it professed, by Morpheus’ bidding,
like Prufrock’s smokey cat, unhidden,
the dream had curled about her brain, pervasive,
dark visitation probing, foggy whiskers fiddling.
Night after night, had she borne the intrusion,
eyes darkly weary, confused heart constricted,
waking hours suffered, relations became afflicted
by demon doubt and resultant quips and snips –
so that love withdrew, Cupid’s arrow roughly shifted.
Once taste of victory touched the dark hour trance,
her insubstantial nightly visitor an incubus became.
The girl in daylight cared not, felt not the same.
Still, her face and body withered, and yet,
love’s guise returned to her each night, in strengthening dream.
There would be no after, no happy ending
in style of fairytale for our sister Aurora here. Each night
the dream did visit her, ghostly prince, knight
of sleeping arousal, and ever closer to death the girl drew near –
until she gave herself up entirely, drained soul taking flight.
But not so far did Mors let that spent spirit travel.
No human voice could wake her now, drowned
as she was in many-folded cloak of death: around
her an ocean swilling, seaweeded with souls.
But rippling hand of Thanatos reached out, pulled her aground.
Another chance, not often given, in sweet revenge’s form.
In life, so in death, such is the existence of a dream,
the god informed her, caressing her body (the same,
but now delightful to his senses in its misty self, insubstantial).
“Take flight, my beauty. Go haunt the man once incubus, enshroud his brain.”
[Copyright N R Nolan © 2015]