GUATEMALA DREAM

by William M. Peaster

I dreamt of Huitzilopochtli wandering the morning shoreline.
I listened to his bare feet crunching in the seashells,
heard the jungle moaning in the wake
of his flight.

I dreamt a hummingbird as locked in battle with two hawks:
I saw the feathers of its plumage plucked and fall,
watched the small bird beat its wings
into the dawn.

I dreamt that mossy pathway where the prophet
once on muddied hands did crawl, where now only bats lived,
the place whispered of in the villages
of our birth.

I dreamt of a strange face,
I saw it as a statue’s gaze at the bottom of the sea.
I saw gold coins glimmering by its toes
in the murky waters.

And when finally I returned ashore
Huitzilopochtli was gone, only his tracks being left.
Already, the dusk had
begun—

Note: You can find "Guatemala Dream" and 150 similar poems in my recently published volume of poems, Phantastikon.