Dream Twister Poem by Patti Masterman

In the dreams I would hide in my mothers closet;
That cobwebbed den of indeterminate size, piled sky high
With ancient high heeled shoes; spilling out all over
In every color of the rainbow; old wool suits
She had worn one hundred pounds less ago.
I guess I thought that the twisting tornado
At the back of our place, was coming solely for me:
Had my name written all over it-
Like an intelligent monster, it came stalking only me
In my dreams, and I always went for that closet.
I guess my reasoning went, that if no one could find anything in there
A tornado would never notice me crouching down.
Of course, in dreams closets expand to gargantuan
Sizes with furniture and rooms of their own.
And in dreams tornadoes are vengeful, intelligent beings
Following their nose, like a hound dog, just to find you.
I don't know what I thought I had done that made me
Deserving of tornadoes hunting me nightly.
Strangely there was never anyone else around in these dreams.
No one to run to; no one to cling to- just me and the old hats,
The rank furs, the dust bunnies; holding in my breath;
Afraid that thing down the garden path would hear me.