Curing The Dream Poem by Dónall Dempsey

Stripping down to
your bra & knickers

& then
thinking twice
about it

stripping off altogether

you walked down
the street

as if you did it
everyday

an ordinary occurrence

wolf whistles, car horns & gasps

accompanying your
promenade.

Your naked flame red hair
making people unsure if
you were or weren’t?

“Why? ”
I asked.

You said you
used to dream it
and fearful of it

you decided
to live it
for real

see what the dream
felt like
in reality.

Now, free from it
you no longer dream it.

Even charming the cop
who came to investigate
the commotion

(you had already slipped
back into your dress)

stating that it was just
an artistic touch
and although it looked

like it was...it wasn’t

you were an art student
making a performance art video
and you were Lady Godiva.

You showed the shy cop
your skimpy dress clinging to your curvy body
he stared at your bust.. blushed.

Let you go with the promise you’d send him a copy of the video.


The nightmare tamed

nuzzling a sugar lump

from your open palm.