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A Dream Vision

Two phantoms came to me one night,

the first a student of opera

and hard knocks; approaching

in a gown spattered by bloodstains,

she bore on a scarlet tray

a gleaming golden pencil, said “Complain.”

The second, more flower girl

than demented bride, strewed petals

from bottomless pockets with one hand,

held in the other a purple pillow

with a silver pen upon it, whispered “Praise.”

Half-awake in the predawn

I tossed and turned,

raged and burned,

blearily staggered from bed to window

and wondered which fled ghost

would sign her name to the phrases I was forming.

from Silver RosesFind it in the library

Copyright © Persea Books 2010
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Persea Books.

Published in Poems Rachel Wetzsteon

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