by Scott Curley

sitting dismal

cold open

slate stone sitting, watching

the cacophonous howling of a dream’s last breath

the drunken beast swaggers from its hole

manic grin of a madman

the shots ring out in the motionless night

the air is still

ears are ringing while you sleep

dreaming of a place that’s home

where all’s welcome and

the dreams that scream are nowhere you can hear

and your eyes are glued to pictures of

your innocence whored for a billboard

in the plaza

and you let it in

but the scream is still there and

you’ll hear

it

and nothing else

the crash of monoliths tumbling to the ground

lying in their own filth

and the dream hangs on

and it still screams in the bold and open black of solid night

as we whisper about it in closed corridors and the last thing we hear before it stops is

the frozen breath of eternity creeping its way back from where we thought to bury it

look at the moon…

there are no stars…

I feel a chill creeping in…

Curley is entering his second year at Paul Smith’s College, and is a junior majoring in Wildlife Management.