My Dream: Confront With My Death Poem by Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

In the night of sore darkness
In the thunderstorms,
A hungry plant lapping water
Till it's too stiff to stand.

Striving to nap against my hand
In my own bed
Blinking my memorable eyes
At someone totally engaged in
Carving the night into figurine
That blows out midnight candle.

The wind wearing the curtain
In my room perceive the tree
The soundless howling
Of faceless ghosts
Digging the ground by its toes
Into my back to be in hurry.

When these ghosts came
To drag me out of my bed,
In the other world, my beloved
Beading her hair and
Plucking butterflies from cactus plants.

I shrieked from inside a fountain
A mermaid warned me to be silent.

Alas! I dreamt of me
Walking into the fast moving cars
And waking up with the wrecked arms
Just in the next morning.
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