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When January's Here

Our prompt for the day (optional as always) takes its cue from our gently odd resources, and asks you to write a poem based on an image from a dream. We don’t always remember our dreams, but images or ideas from them often stick with us for a very long time. I definitely have some nightmares I haven’t been able to forget, but I’ve also witnessed very lovely things in dreams (like snow falling on a flood-lit field bordered by fir trees, as seen through a plate glass window in a very warm and inviting kitchen). Need an example of a poem rooted in dream-based imagery? Try this one by Michael Collier.

When January's here and snows deep,
the long nights carry us in our sleep.
I open my eyes, and there I see him
with the scary mask, his figure slim,
Savage darkly outlined, my distance I keep.

That smell of cologne so cheap,
and he looks my way, not a peep,
his eyes divert, where sadness brims
when January's here!

And yet, his figure weeps,
as he glides with a frightful leap,
screams so ghastly, pleading hymns,
Exacto knife rips flesh and limb;
concrete turns to feathery heap
when January's here.