you had stubble in
my dream

I couldn’t see it and only
when you took
my hand and placed it
on your cheek could I feel
the prickles and see the
golden hairs

it was grafted on
you said
your words made it so

my hand brushed the
spiky bristles and then
your breast and I



still an abstraction
even in dreams

Sophie Juratowitch


Sophie Juratowitch is a social worker. She is interested in feminism, social justice issues and anything written on a page. She lives in Melbourne, Australia.

© 2019