BETTY GRAY

DISEMBODIED DREAMS

When secrets of a soul, eerily pale,
heedlessly rear their hideous heads
and claw their way through funeral veil
to recklessly roam a reposing forest bed
in search of fading dreams, unseen, unforeseen,
infringing morality, fringing mortality,
surreptitious, sultry, surreal,
defying, denying, hell-bent on never dying,
undaunted and unaware that nothing is real;

when angel’s blood runs cold,
when spells remain unbroken,
when moonbeams dance with demons untold,
mortals must hide from truths unspoken.