I can’t remember how I got here
walking up a carpeted staircase
I’m having trouble telling dreams
from reality— don’t like to judge

There’s a warmth to my side
long legs from a purple dress
I usually don’t dream in color
so this is a clue

But then we’re in a little room
I can’t unstick a hair from my lips
feeling hot and cold like my feet
kicked from beneath covers

Her body presses against mine
like a pillow after hours
absorbing body heat — caliente
grins a voice dripping Merlot

I want her to bite my neck
then I’d know for sure
if I should wake up
or fall asleep

(For today’s prompt, Write a dream poem, and/or a reality poem.)

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is one of the organizers of Living Poetry, a collection of poets and poetry lovers in the Triangle region of North Carolina. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.
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10 Responses to Caliente

  1. JeanMarie says:

    vampire dreams! caliente!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Cassa Bassa says:

    Very surreal

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Priti says:

    Is it dream? ☺️

    Liked by 1 person

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