Sleeping Lives (an old poem)
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

My hand tightened around her throat
as I pushed her down the stairs
while my gun pressed against her back,
and the men downstairs withdrew their guns.
I knew they wouldn't hurt her,
but I had to move fast
to avoid being killed.
I threw her to the floor
once we were downstairs
and shot two men
as a bullet grazed my shoulder.
Out of the corner of my eye,
a car drove through the house
with the blond-haired man leaning out
to take a better shot at me.
My eyes gazed into his icy blues
as my bullet hit him in the neck,
and then there was only silence.
I awoke in a sweat,
half-expecting my gun to be at my side,
but it was my cat
sleeping a thousand dreams.