Life or Death

Leonora Carrington, The Saints of Hampstead Heath

I lay, immobile, at the foot of two figures. 

I cannot see them but I know they are there.

I hear faint exchanges of voices, 

making decisions for me.

I lay, dormant, unable to wiggle a finger.

My freezing body waits for deliverance,

but I am impatient.

I lay, powerless, incapable of resistance.

The chatter grows loud, my thoughts louder,

my eyes open, to dark and light,

two large figures day and night.

The taller figure glares at me,

his eyes like an abyss of white.

When he sees me, a grin forms on his face.

The smile digs into me like a thousand daggers.

This can’t be real; I must be dreaming

“Oh it’s real all right,” claims the man.