by Celeste Pfister
This dream wails
while I sleep snoring:
a cup clatters to the floor
fractures at my feet crack!
hurling word bombs and blades
you machete our bedsheets
the air explodes
with a whoosh
like a house on fire
and the cuts still burn
though you’re gone
gone these forty years.
Celeste Pfister has long been writing poetry in the shadows of her roles including mother, physician, teacher, mentor, writer, artist, musician. She has taught literary courses and has been published in Persimmon Tree, Reunion (Shodair Children's Hospital), and The American Psychoanalyst. She publishes a bi-weekly blog, "Creative Inspiration," on topics of art and poetry. She lives in Venice, Florida.
Find Celeste at CreativeInspiration.Substack.com, on Instagram @celestialmixedmediaworks, and at www.celestialartworks.com.