the dream lie

so oft in learning a man,

he reveals subconscious visions

of times I'm absent from his gaze

I stand struck by the pattern of convenience,

the repeated savior complex in his dreams

how I'm a woman drowning,

fingers spread, arm stretched toward the flashing buoy,

then plucked from the waters by bloated muscle

and primitive grunt

my rescuer's kiss, the perceived trophy,

comes ill-timed and poorly placed,

relieved this fantasy only occurs

behind his shuttered eyes

(doubtless it's feigned civility)