Dream by Jack D. Harvey


By the blue Bakelite clock
on the wall
midnight posted.

I wait for Dream,
my pale horse,
to come carry me off,
his broad back where I ride,
has a white saddle
hard and smooth
as Athena’s hand.

Horse, we shall fly tonight
to realms beyond
the shells of dead worlds,
beyond the pea-green seas
of pink-eared mermaids,
past trees and spines
on which birds may be spiked
or an isotope of helium
caught and held;
past strange fruit
like small luscious balloons,
amber and gold bladders,
inflating at dusk, drifting aloft,
spar-high, then higher,
seeming bound
for the starry heavens.

Horse, I wait for you in bed
with my hands on the reins,
for yesterday venturing into
the rain looking for you
and you came breathing snorting
cold blue fire,
your mane awned and stiff
as the shoots of an iron vine.

Dream, I touched your forehead,
traced with purple veins
and you wandered off,
your shiny hide
steaming like a pond
on a cool autumn morning.

Even if I got on you, Dream,
got my chance,
I know you would throw me off,
throw me off like offal,
like one not meant to ride,
one whose destiny was decided
and like that king of Babylon
weighed and found wanting;
one whose time to ride,
to abide in the pastures
of the fortunate and the blessed
had come and gone.

©2019 Jack D. Harvey


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Jack D. Harvey’s poetry has appeared in Scrivener, The Comstock Review, Bay Area Poets’ Coalition, The Antioch Review, The Piedmont Poetry Journal and a number of other on-line and in print poetry magazines. The author has been a Pushcart nominee and over the years has been published in a few anthologies.

The author has been writing poetry since he was sixteen and lives in a small town near Albany, N.Y. He was born and worked in upstate New York. He is retired from doing whatever he was doing before he retired. 


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