nightmare

You kicked me in sleeping
late last night, I
cried out, dashed from dreams
so suddenly I forgot them
your touch ice.

I lay curled away
watching your shoulders heave,
your grunting efforts under sheets
at sanity.

I hoped the kick a sign
of triumph over those clutching fingers,
those deep dragging demons.

I hoped you'd wake and turn,
and your eyes would be yours
again, and I could touch
you without the shiver of god.

I hoped, and then I heard it that
train from my childhood
pulsing across dark waters
bearing down like screaming
its whistle a nightmare.

Then I was eight, and you were
not yet crazy, not yet you.