lilac wine

         Leah felt the presence of a man. He was sitting on the bed. The weight of him shifted toward her and a breeze touched her forehead. She opened her eyes and saw that he was quite handsome. His butternut shirt was of the ancient frontier.
         "How are you, Leah?"
         "Who are you? Oh--" Hangover pain stabbed her brain.
         "I thought so," her stranger chuckled.
         She sat up slowly and looked around the room. Oddly the first thing she noticed was the wine rack. Tannhauser's home-made lilac wine. In mason jars. The thought of wine caused her to vomit. Floor splatter.
          "Oh, God--"
          "It's fine. I'll clean it up."
          His hair was long and black as a raven's wing. His eyes were burning obsidian.
          "Who are you?"
          "A friend."
          "Please, don't hurt me."


                                                                                           *


          The dream had the sonorous power of a Bach organ. It lifted her from the bed and carried her outside where there was a garden. Wild rose, honeysuckle, wisteria and Virginia creeper. Rampant. Wind-rushed.
           She was delivered unto an abundance of sweet grass.
           In the midst of this dream her face was frozen into glass.
           Artie, my love. Help me. Help me!