Yesterday, 06:31 AM
The Dream I Send You Every Night,
But Never Talk About
You're strung out fighting sleep
again, revisiting the latest tragedy
to climb out of your mouth, and this
is called a life. You're stretched out
over legless trees,
absorbing oxygen through tiny
doughnut discs atop an old log
full of worms and salt, circling
a doped-up lightning bug
till it runs out of juice,
which hardly counts
as news—but row out with me
deeper now, where stars don't mind
the lighthouse. Streams of gravity like ants
run down the oarlocked gunnels. A stray hand
snatches at the currents
pouring from your face
into a heartless silence,
cat or lover, any life
you choose.
But Never Talk About
You're strung out fighting sleep
again, revisiting the latest tragedy
to climb out of your mouth, and this
is called a life. You're stretched out
over legless trees,
absorbing oxygen through tiny
doughnut discs atop an old log
full of worms and salt, circling
a doped-up lightning bug
till it runs out of juice,
which hardly counts
as news—but row out with me
deeper now, where stars don't mind
the lighthouse. Streams of gravity like ants
run down the oarlocked gunnels. A stray hand
snatches at the currents
pouring from your face
into a heartless silence,
cat or lover, any life
you choose.