“Truck” by Chandra Alderman

Great Horned Owl

I’m startled awake from a nightmare
by a scream. A great horned owl
calling out in the dark.
The dream I’ve been having
most of my life. My stepfather
holding my mother’s head
under a scalding tap.
Lifting her up and biting her
scalp. Over and over.
On the television, Sixty Minutes
with the opening montage
a stopwatch ticking. My mother
crying. I can’t bear the sound
of a second hand moving
even after all of these years.
My eyes fully open and I tell myself,
“I’m here, not there” and begin
grounding. Sheet, blanket.
Fan blowing. Count my fingers and
toes. I am here. Next to you.
You are laying on your side,
shirtless. I look at your back
in the moonlight or streetlight
coming through the blinds.
Your hair slow dancing with the air
from the fan. I picture you
in the attic, moving to music.
I reach out and touch you, I forget,
for a moment, about the dream.
I worry I will wake you.
I think of the owl hunting.
Swooping down silent as the dark,
biting the head of some small,
soft creature. I roll over, my back
touches your back, and fall asleep
to your warmth and gentle breath.

“prison chapel” by Chandra Alderman

Chandra Alderman lives in northeast Ohio. Her heart belongs to Pittsburgh, PA. Her writing and photography have appeared online at Thirteen Myna Birds, The City Poetry, Octopus Review, Trailer Park Quarterly and Live Nude Poems. She’s working on a collection of poetry and is still trying to compose a perfect bowl of soup.