wordsout by Godfrey Rust                                     BREAKING THE CHAINS  47 of 61  The place where socks go    HOME

D229 - First frost of the season


Woke before the alarm. Pulled
the covers over my head
but you can't avoid the day for ever. Outside
the windscreen was white with frost. Poured
a kettleful of water over it and drove
squinting through the frozen rivulets.
                                                                   One theory is
dreams are the way that the unconscious mind
sorts the day's debris, like a berserk computer—
fear, loss, guilt, desire, the girl in the mirror
at the traffic lights, in dark glasses . . . how is it
I never dream about you, God?

Godfrey Rust, godfrey@wordsout.co.uk. See here for details of permissions for use.