nightmares are this

The neighbor’s dog barks like a bird.
He follows me around the corner setting off alarms
with his long fingers.
Sometimes he follows me into math class,
and pokes me on the shoulder.
He whispers odd numbers into the questions.
He’ll open the blinds to the blazing sun; there are faces
outside the window waiting for me.
Everywhere is a staircase.
The neighbor’s dog has a leather chain to carry unfinished animals
left on the road like those 1965 movies where the girls
are black and white.
No one breathes out loud.
He’s rabid, and short-tailed,
and he used to love everyone.

____

Amy Soricelli has been published in numerous publications and anthologies including Dead Snakes, Corvus Review, Dead Beats, Long Island Quarterly, Voice of Eve, The Long Islander. Sail Me Away (chapbook) Dancing Girl Press, 2019. Nominated by Billy Collins for Emerging Writer’s Fellowship 2019 and for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2013 and a recipient of the Grace C. Croff Poetry Award, Lehman College, 1975.