as the mask melted down the face of the mystic

the husband moaned from his bed

and the wife lay down on the altar of their marriage

the lights of Las Vegas illuminating her nude body

in garish curves of neon


the heat from the desert rolled across the motel road

in waves of fear and infidelity

coating the backs of their throats and the pillow

of their sleeping child


and from her position face down in her thirties

she saw the mystic’s mind begin to glow

from behind the iris of his one blue eye

while simultaneously her husband cried out

and stuffed his mouth with sheets

already damp with sweat


the night magnified the hallucinations of dreams

like the terrors of a feverish child in sleep

while the hand of love hovered over them all

waiting for the moment to stroke their faces

and twist her fingers in their gentle curls


and trucks rolled like windstorms

down the sleeping interstate

carrying unseen cargo around the darkest bend




copyright Megan E. Freeman, published in IMPROV, 2009




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Megan E. Freeman 2019