Benjamin Blake




In the Mind’s Half Light of Dreaming


I dreamt of an over-exposed photograph of Town Hall

And a past lover, undressed and atop of me



Three worn golden keys, in an otherwise empty box

Belonging to a dresser with pastel colored corsets

Somewhere in a sprawling house, nestled in a vast expanse of vacant fields



Hurrying through a crowded country train

In search of a maiden, straight from the battered pages

Of a beloved children’s book

I touch her pale shoulder and she turns

And lean in to press my lips against hers

When I realise there’s been a case of mistaken identity

I apologise with sincerity

Before continuing my way down the carriage

Finally finding her alongside her faithful friend

(A sidekick of sorts)

Our mouths collide with anticipation

And a look of anguish tears across his youthful face

(A boy she was suppose to marry, or so the author had intended)

I shouldn’t be here



Last night, I dreamt that you died

We wrapped arms around one another

As crimson paint poured from your eyes

Between mournful sobs I told you

‘I love you more that any living creature on this earth’

And when you spoke, your voice was like wind-chimes




Benjamin Blake was born in July, 1985, and grew up in the small town of Eltham, New Zealand. He is the author of the poetry collection, A Prayer for Late October, published by Hammer & Anvil Books. Find more of his work (and photography) at

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