Sweet Dreams Ann. E

She is bound and awestruck.
Lucid of turbid moments in time.

Grasping wisps of wind
For energy to carry her over.

She sits perched high above
Encapsulated in a fixed mold of flesh
Entombed and guarded
Against humanistic waste.

Laws of ascension are weighted
Frozen still is her spirit to rise.

She is a slave trapped
Barren now as the landscape.

Parched in view the waste
Of life's overflow.

She lies in her bed lingering.
Eyes empty now
As the mechanism for flight
Is loosed and set free.

She died only moments ago
And I watched as her shadow lifted
Billowing up into the clouds
Smiling as she looked down at me.

- Blanche McLanahan