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HENRY FUSELI'S THE NIGHTMARE

By Mehran Waheed



“Papa! Papa!”

 

Your howls prey on my name,

shake the stars, rattle the moon,

shock my heart like a horse's head

on my deathbed; gasping to find

your paperweight mare strangling dreams,

hooves plunged into chest.

 

I rush to your bedside, nocturnal manners

expelled, to blanket you in cotton arms.

Pyjama skin clings, hair-pasted forehead,

sodden sheets and wiping cheeks

from your marble eyes, lost behind

the macabre dance of your mind.

 

Was it a piece of undigested cartoon,

twisted and repeated like tapeworm?

Forgive me, these inherited jinns,

moulding our night's blood

into clotted clowns, a bowl of cherry

screams, ticking crocodile bellies...

 

Rest assured, I will sentry the floor,

exorcise the shaitan waxing your ears,

light labyrinthine corridors,

guard the teddy bear bones

inside closet drawers, until

the plush pink of dawn.

 

But be warned my dear,

the old nag's teeth will grow

beneath the gummy soil.

Her reins tug at your rooted fears,

naysay through foreign fields.

My pen has mucked, fought and tended.

 

Harness your way, or

Ignore her at your peril.


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