A Wardrobe of Stolen Dreams
By Beth Konkoski
I moved into someone’s dream
as it sat like luggage at the airport,
waiting to be claimed. The clothes
did not fit at first or show off
my best side, but I paused, pushed
away the doubt through
afternoons of a caramel October,
until my face seemed to stay
that way, the old wives’ tale
made true. Turns out
I lucked into this dream that could
have drained me, stitched me hard
inside a nightmare, but didn’t,
and now I should relinquish these
stolen dreams, but I won’t. Instead
I’ll wait out the statute
of limitations, set my own
limits on the state
of my affairs and let myself
settle in to dreaming as it
becomes mine.