Taste

We have been visited, kissed. Look
at the lipstick evidence. Even I know
the consequence of dreaming.
Elevators drop, the world is clear
and we can eat strawberries again,
taste again with the first tongue.

Sail like a kiss
like the fog
through the pasture
indefinitely looking
back at how your road
bent through your years

Breath the sea air
and deeply. You inhale
without the weight,
you can hear us whispering
to you in the wind
murmuring, as if through
a thin wall.

We wave to you, speak
softly to you at night
through our tears.
You

Feather at night

The softest feather at night
blooms its shadow against the wall,
a tuft from atop a doll's hat.

She stares wonderstruck,
maybe she is thinking of the sea.

Yet, the feather's shadow growls
opens its mouth to devour
with its sharpened teeth.
I fear he might gulp us up.

Feathers has all the letters
needed to spell fears.

And I wonder if all this time
I have been looking
at the actual thing
or the shadow formed by it.

Bent

We get bent on nobody's business,
on the hours that we borrow.
We angle ourselves away from the ache.
We drive the nail home.

Who I am today is a foggy little dream.
I used to be someone and something.

And all the lists, rules and whatofsuch,
really matters nothing as much.

And now I am trying to diet.
Magic is most desired when it comes
to the consequences of the body.

Have you wondered about the glasses
you were looking through before?

We've been bent and no we're crooked
and the world looks smeared.