Trauma as Dreamer

I dreamt of that man’s
body as a falling animal,
draped in heavy cloth.

       I knew, somewhere,
       that by reaching him I could
       be young, enough to live.

Between us were mountains,
thickets dotted
with lavender and rosehip.

       In the hillside, churches
       carved into earth so that
       even the spires fell

below the tallest grass,
each with ornate windows
drowned in shadow.

       I would call out to him,
       this man of sharp bone, but
       the sound arrived too late,

finding only the air
that held his shape, dropping
away with the sun.

John Pring is a poet and author based in the UK, where he is a Masters candidate at the University of Sussex. His work has been featured in The Passionfruit Review, MONO, Oroboro, Letter Review, Qu Literary, The Banyan Review, The Tomahawk Creek Review, Dolorem Ipsum, The Rising Phoenix Review, and others.