Creative Corner: Recurring Dream

I’m in a wood and it’s dark.
Trees compete to thrust their limbs
Above the earth. Their branches twine and tease, 
Threading my hair into knots,
Wet as moss. 
           I’m in a wood and I’m running,
And the leaves lash out harder than my pace. 
They smack me like shadows,
Full of reproach,
Carrying the night forward, onwards,
In the shortest breath, I hear the thud 
Of paws behind —
Claws cutting a fine line
Through the drench,
Splitting the path
Into ruinous halves.
             With each step, each breath — 
Deeper and deeper,
Like a dream, like a dread —
                                                  I’m running,
Then sprinting, but nothing feels fast enough. 
And all I can feel are the brambles
Piercing my feet as the wolf closes in,
And I glance over my shoulder 
To see him now
Unhinge his jaw.

Daniella Clarke

Featured Image Source: Pexels

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