It was the dull of morning
When I stepped on your hand,
And you, from sleep, uncurled
A string of upset letters
That jumped towards awake.
Unpleasant sounds continued
While you stumbled into the neon bathroom.
I knelt in the sudden terror
Of the living room refeeling
The crunch of fingers beneath me.
A steady stream of implications,
Like red hawks, stared in the window.
Each world ends when it breaks
From the nightdreams that hold it.
I broke this place, and went to
A smaller island
That hugs the seamless vast
Along the Spanish Main.
Sea winds curled over to obscure
That I always wanted
This unseen thing.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment