Night Light

Paul slept with a river smooth rock
under his pillow.

And a piece of petrified wood
machine-polished smooth.

On his nightstand
a dozen shaped clay snails

carried lustrous shells
collected from the garden’s carnage.

As sleep’s easy breath
shifted into a nightmare’s labored breathing

fog emerged from Paul’s mouth
as if the infernal dream tried to take shape.

The vapor froze into crystals that sparkled
lit with phosphorescence.

copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney

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