THE  27Th  EDITIOn

I had almost forgotten about dreams.

 

I stood under the same sky;

the city lights as cold candles,

the moon as sun’s quiet child.

the stars, then, are distant cousins,

something like a family

sharing a dreamscape milky with clouds.

I knew this by the color of the grass.

 

I had my arm around someone.

it was there under each finger.

hip. waist. muscle. breath and skin.

I never had the chance to guess who.

the water sang and whispered against the rocks.

the wind came to touch my face—bare.

and then I knew where I had been taken.

 

I pulled us closer.

to wake up now is to refuse something like a gift.