the poetry nugget

I startle into awake, the room dark, yet in the shadows three figures gather by my bed, three figures unmoving, unspeaking, hands together, hands uplifted, in prayer, in blessing, in admonishment? Fog heavy in my head, fear looms, patience thins, I reach toward the nearest light. A floor lamp with its wide shade, one of the trio, a momentary comfort, but what of the other two? Angels, aliens, two Weird Sisters with a Macbethian prediction? Cocooned into sleep, caught by a vague whisper of a tangible somewhere within.

N eon blue, inspiration of R othko, I run my fingers through it, streak my face, my arms, a Scottish Pict preparing for battle. My friend is wounded, in need of protection, I channel the spirit of the she-bear. Nose skyward to catch the scent, claws unsheathed, carnivores exposed, towering, tossing the prey, light as salmon, slashing belly, innards sloughing, the snow bleeds into pink.