clay villains

every night i slide into dreams.
they are bad dreams
vivid and dark villains pushed together,
hastily.
red and grey and brown clay
edges still crinkly
if they were rolled smooth,
orderly marbles
with clean whorls and intents,
i could place them

but no

they are people with-
three names,
two voices,
no faces.
people i know
or don’t

every morning i wake up unsettled
sweaty to my toes
trying to hold onto the villains
long enough to remember their faces
so if we meet again,
i can whisper, “you don’t scare me
anymore”

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