somniat 19 — wingless dragonflies
An orange soda tips over at the counter
and spills out its contents
over scattered bits of popcorn
and abandoned licorice pastels,
then begins to drip
onto a plush black carpet –
no one mans the concession stand,
but I hear a soft movement,
a shuffling not far from the cash register;
I don’t know who’s there,
but I don’t call out to them
because I know its not her.
I leave the cinema lobby
through large double doors
that lead out, into to the atrium,
a massive underground chamber
centered around a fountain, that once
must have been spectacular,
but has since dried and cracked,
becoming a place for cigarette butts,
occasional trash and accumulated dust,
aluminum cans.
I am not alone,
there are men moving about
in funny full suited rain coats,
army green,
with goggles that give them
large circular bug eyes
and a nozzle that elongates their noses
and accentuates the sound of their breathing;
long exasperated, belabored breathes;
as they shout at me
and point their impressive rifles;
I haven’t time for this,
this game they are playing.
There are two ways down to the food court,
an elevator
and a long spiraling stairway –
tucked away in its own alcove;
the elevator has been shut down,
and the alcove sealed with a sliding metal shutter;
behind that shutter there is an intense banging,
and a voice that cries –
I look to see if I can open it
but I’m pushed away
by the butt of a rifle;
and I turn to see
eyes behind that bugged out mask,
inflamed and threatened,
ready to kill me.
A pack of soldiers, a swarm,
surrounds me,
I don’t know how many there are
but I’m their problem now
and they will unravel me;
they are dragonflies that buzz about me,
fearful and angry,
because their wings have been pulled off;
I stand still
and when, for a brief moment,
their bickering drone pauses,
I tell them,
I saw an angel.
- somniat 39: where naked angels weep
- somniat 38: devils
- somniat 37: ... and now you are dead
- somniat 36: the dry well
- somniat 35: the grotto
- somniat 34: passages iii
- somniat 33: passages ii
- somniat 32: passages i
- somniat 31: home
- somniat 30: between fate and destiny, part ii
- somniat 29: between fate and destiny, part i
- somniat 28: can you run?
- somniat 27: the lolling tongue
- somniat 26: what the gargoyle saw
- somniat 25: chrysocolla
- somniat 24: heat
- somniat 23: parousiamania
- somniat 22: basalt and ebony
- somniat 21: a festival of stars
- somniat 20: a standoff
- somniat 19: wingless dragonflies
- somniat 18: an exchange between lawyers
- somniat 17: the old cinema
- somniat 16: through the vent
- somniat 15: out and into
- somniat 14: a decision in retrospect
- somniat 13: trust
- somniat 12: utterly beautiful
- somniat 11: spotted
- somniat 10: the men's room
- somniat 9: through the alcove iii
- somniat 8: through the alcove ii
- somniat 7: through the alcove i
- somniat 6: the mountain
- somniat 5: the change
- somniat 4: fear
- somniat 3: numbers
- somniat 2: in shadows
- somniat 1: a place underground




“but I don’t call out to them
because I know its not her.”
This is truly chilling. Excellent write!
This truly reads like a dream. Very visual. It makes me sad how everything is in a state of decay, even before we see the theatre forlorn, forgotten and broken, it is becoming so with each step we take into it, with each soda spilled. There is such a tension in this unfolding. Always this banging thing, this drive to the food court, this angel who shuffles. It reminds me of my own dreams which always seem to be about me STRIVING, yet unable.
Okay! You are at your best when you stay with the crisp descriptions and avoid abstractions. This is a very good poem. Intiguing, a bit surreal, dramatic, engaging.
Mama Zen, thank you!
Annie, you really pick up on the mood here well — thank you!
James, I’m glad you like it!