and Magpie Tales haunting visual prompt as seen here.
Last night in the graveyard shift of my dreams
I stood looking at a high hill that I needed to climb.
My niece ran over to show me a train track to take up
and a flat, open tram to sit on for the trek to the top. No directions
were given me for how to work this tram but
I was drawn up as if by an invisible cable.
I climbed slowly and then plateaued for a bit,
climbed again and again plateaued. On the third plateau
a young boy appeared beside the track in front of me. He held a rope
attached to a smaller, open trolley on which sat two toddlers.
The boy laughed as he pulled them along in the same direction I was headed
then turned and raced the toddlers' trolley toward my tram until I ran over them.
Traces of blood tipped the front of the tram.
My tram continued to the top as waves
of disbelief, horror, guilt, hope that no one saw, fear
about leaving the scene of the accident and determination to make a police report on the accident
washed over me. Through it all careened the question
of how seriously the toddlers were hurt. I saw my daughter at the hilltop,
told her of the accident. She had heard it on the news,
but never said if the two little ones lived or died.
I wandered and worried since it was longer and longer
from the time of the accident, stymied
by how to find the police and consumed
by concern over the toddlers' condition.
I felt like a woman in a foggy field surrounded by chairs
whose arrangement makes no sense as I looked around for what to do next,
as if a dream is our sixth sense but defies discernment.
