Saturday, 2 February 2013
Poem - A Sense of Consequence
A Sense of Consequence
Even in a dream, I am still me. I cannot
Escape the sense of consequence that so easily eludes him.
In my dream he grabs me, tries to hold me down, sneers at me daring to tell him no.
I fight back, I shrug off the grip he has upon my wrists. I reach my phone and call the Gardai,
But they don’t come. I await sirens and saviours, but there is just him, sneering.
I reach for the nearest thing, an extension lead, and beat him to death with it.
Partly in self-defence.
Partly in fury and anger as I feel a banshee rise up inside me.
I check his neck for a pulse, and feel only my own heartbeat racing through my fingertips.
I phone the Gardai again. I tell them what has happened – what I have done.
No sense of glory, no feeling that I’ve won.
I feel sick. I am free from him, but facing another horrible fate.
As I draw toward wakening, I am sitting in the back of a Garda car, while
Massachusetts by the BeeGees plays on the radio. I am facing jail.
Facing the consequences of my actions. Even in a dream where I am strong,
I cannot escape reality. I wake up with that song swimming round in my head.