Crown of Thistle

Once I dreamed I was a princess or

someone else important like a


and the angels took out my trash and

scrubbed my toilet. I dreamed

you were a prince or maybe a bounty hunter

who was

fierce, but also

gentle, who would wash my feet. I dreamed

you tracked down my nightmares, brought them


to my throne,

tied them to a pyre of pine

and burned them alive. I dreamed

we danced widdershins around the throbbing flame

with mint leaves

under our tongues and

silver beads about

our ankles.

But you were only a mechanic

with a milky smile.

You helped fix my toilet -the one

the angels never cleaned.

My nightmares still murmured to me with

lewd grins

from behind unburned wood piles

and shanty palaces.

They wore

my stolen crown of thistle.








Add yours →

  1. Wow. The turnabouts in this are fantastic…the toilet cleaning (or non-cleaning) angels and the milky mouthed mechanic–terrific!

  2. This is absolutely lovely. I love the rhythm and the comparisons. “I dreamed you tracked down my nightmares/brought them/squirming/to my throne/tied them to a pyre of pine/and burned them alive.” So, so good.

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