Desultory and Impulsive

Somewhere else...

They laid in bed
She slid her knee over
Under
The covers
And touched his leg with it

She felt her sister say something in her sleep
As she slept
Dreaming of her

She hated such type of dreams
The kind that were real
But not

Once she dreamt she had given birth
To a dog
That wasn't a dog
But was in shape

Like it had a human spirit
With a humanlike telepathic connection
To her mind
Which caused her heart to ache for it
As if it were an actual child

Her child

And in her dream it was her child
And it was brought up to her chest to nurse
And it was hairy and wet and she wondered
If she was supposed to lick it clean

In the back of her mind
There was a voice
Which told her how if she were a good mother
She would

But the thought of licking it clean
Struck her gross
 
Somewhere else...

They laid in bed
She slid her knee over
Under
The covers
And touched his leg with it

She felt her sister say something in her sleep
As she slept
Dreaming of her

She hated such type of dreams
The kind that were real
But not

Once she dreamt she had given birth
To a dog
That wasn't a dog
But was in shape

Like it had a human spirit
With a humanlike telepathic connection
To her mind
Which caused her heart to ache for it
As if it were an actual child

Her child

And in her dream it was her child
And it was brought up to her chest to nurse
And it was hairy and wet and she wondered
If she was supposed to lick it clean

In the back of her mind
There was a voice
Which told her how if she were a good mother
She would

But the thought of licking it clean
Struck her gross
Last night I dreamt
I fell asleep inside a hallway
that had no walls,
only the suggestion of walls…
like polite ghosts standing shoulder to shoulder.
hiding.

The carpet was breathing.
not dramatically,
just enough to lift my footsteps
and set them down somewhere else.
someplace else.

A door grew from the air
and swung inward
to reveal a smaller version of the sky,
folded neatly,
blue side out.

I stepped through
and found a lake suspended vertically,
fish moving like punctuation marks
in a sentence that refused to end.
one of the fish opened its mouth
and a staircase fell from it.

I climbed.

Halfway up, gravity changed its mind.

At the top of the staircase
there was a kitchen table
set for seven shadows
who nodded at me
with the solemn courtesy of furniture.

Someone—
perhaps the lake,
perhaps the hallway—
whispered,
“what you’re looking for is exactly where you left it.”

I searched my hands
and found a small, quiet moon
resting in my palm,
cool as an unanswered question.

When I woke,
the ceiling was itself again and flat…
but my pillow held the shape
of something round
that had just rolled away.


Lovely to read you again. 💜🌷
 
I want to touch you
But not like how one human
Touches another

Physically
Emotionally

More like how
Old rope
Tied around an old post
Touches each other

Made one by age
By the weather

The beating sun
Bleaching our colors together
Breaking down our fibers
Braiding us

Together

You support me in the wind
I protect you in the rain
--against the saltwater waves
The tears of time
Fallen into a pool
Of which boats float upon

We are there
For them to moor to
We are there
In the dry arid air
To which horses are tied to
And leather faced humans clutch
In the midst of blowing sands
Their blinded eyes
A reflection
Of my blinded ill passion for you

That is how I--
--though I never have

or ever will--

--want to touch you.
 
Back
Top