Poem - A Sense of Consequence

A Sense of Consequence

Even in a dream, I am still me. I cannot

Escape the sense of consequence that so easily eludes him.

In my dream he grabs me, tries to hold me down, sneers at me daring to tell him no.

I fight back, I shrug off the grip he has upon my wrists. I reach my phone and call the Gardai,

But they don’t come. I await sirens and saviours, but there is just him, sneering.

I reach for the nearest thing, an extension lead, and beat him to death with it.

Partly in self-defence.

Partly in fury and anger as I feel a banshee rise up inside me.

I check his neck for a pulse, and feel only my own heartbeat racing through my fingertips.

I phone the Gardai again. I tell them what has happened – what I have done.

No sense of glory, no feeling that I’ve won.

I feel sick. I am free from him, but facing another horrible fate.

As I draw toward wakening, I am sitting in the back of a Garda car, while

Massachusetts by the BeeGees plays on the radio. I am facing jail.

Facing the consequences of my actions. Even in a dream where I am strong,

I cannot escape reality. I wake up with that song swimming round in my head.