I dreamt that Jessica was alive again

or at least

in the form

that I think of her now.

An angel

dressed all in black


black tears

that trail her face like mascara


into the hollowness of a bottomless abyss.

I can see her pointing

at the dead little boys

that she takes hold of;

her hands

wrapped around the bodies

of those who have been broken.

I remember how she was against the war,

I remember that she was afraid to say it.

I opened my eyes

and found her standing

in the corner of my bedroom

by the window


as she was

holding the hand

of the girl that she had been once.

I wept

to be frightened at such an outcome

but it was

as always

all just a dream.