Un-interpreted Dream (4)

by Kate Frank

I am holding the door shut.
Someone, a boy I loved, is helping me
hold it shut but he is also not
there & I am alone in the room.
The room is both the safest place
I can be because I am hidden,
& also the least safe because
I am trapped & they are coming & when
they come & I cannot hold them
there will be nowhere else to go.
I am not dead yet but I know
I am dead. It is inevitable.
The boy's face is at once pock-
marked & smooth, his hair is at once
a stiff mohawk & an army crew cut.
His name is Conner & he eats
an apple while he leans against
the door. It is such an innocuous hallway.
My pursuers were not so frightening
until they were. Conner puts his shoulder
to the door, which is now bulging,
pulsing with the force of my enemies
& he turns his face toward me
with his shoulder still against the door
& smiles like a pirate, rogue-ish, or like
he genuinely loves me & time stops
& starts over in a loop of his head
turning & the enemies pulsing &
his smile growing & frozen on his face.