2:53 AM
By Don Iannone

Dead silence
...so loud
...it awakened me
...from my dream.
Something about...
frozen red roses
...sparkling from afar
...and then suddenly within reach
...of my imagination.
Reminds me of...
frozen strawberries.
Eye candy.
Bright red, sweet, cold, sticky.
I wish I could remember
...more of my dream
...and forget other things
...tapping their long gray fingers
in my head.
We had a spat of rain last night
...a few tinny taps on the roof
...but enough
...to make me look at the clock.
Am I really awake?
Why does that sound
like a spiritual question
...and not just an innocent question
...you ask yourself at 2:53 AM?
The air is thick
...hovering about
...like my dream
...but without words.
Why do I feel the rain
in my head?
It's long gray fingers drumming.
It's no longer 2:53 AM.