The Dream
O God, in the dream the terrible horse
To paw at the air, and make for me with his blows,
Fear kept for thirty-five years poured through his mane,
And retribution equally old, or nearly, breathed through his nose.
Coward complete,
I lay and wept on the
When some strong creature appeared, and leapt for the rein.
Another woman, as I lay half in a
Leapt in the air, and clutched at the leather and chain.
Give him, she said, something of yours as a charm.
Throw him, she said, some poor thing you alone claim.
No, no,
I cried, he hates me; he is out for harm,
And whether I yield or not, it is all the same.
But, like a lion in a legend, when I flung the
Pulled from my sweating, my cold right hand;
The terrible beast, that no one may understand,
Came to my side, and put down his head in love.
Louise Bogan
Other author posts
Women
Women have no wilderness in them, They are provident instead, Content in the tight hot cell of their To eat dusty bread
Roman Fountain
Up from the bronze, I Water without a Rush to its rest in air,
Juans Song
When beauty breaks and falls asunderI feel no grief for it, but wonder When love, like a frail shell, lies broken, I keep no chip of it for token I never had a man for
To A Dead Lover
The dark is thrown Back from the brightness, like hair Cast over a shoulder I am alone, Four years older; Like the chairs and the walls Which I once watched brighten With you beside me