SLEEP

A man lets me hide in his little dark house,
a space no bigger than a fist, enclosed on all sides by
wooden slats.
Anxious, I peer through the floor,
watching them pass underneath, looking
to obliterate

Sitting in the cross branches
that bear pearls like grapes,
in heavy precious clusters,
I smile and hand him a severed bough.
He promptly casts it away to the parched road with its dull dust breath;
pearls burst open. Now they are frog eggs.

We walk up and down through the aisles...
you are filled up with
tiny soapy pills that drowse your limbs.
I can hold you up; you are as slight and thin as aluminum foil. You relax
into my body, and suddenly i am wearing your lipstick

Your hair is a collection of miniscule lines. Tepid water. Dark
puddle slipping through my ringed fingers.
I hold your head
lest it break into fragments of mandarin china -
you let me clasp you tightly.
Missed you so sorely during my exile

Does this mean -

frigid dawn jolt. Goddammit
WHY DO I ALWAYS DREAM you there.
Why do I always awake.
Shower to clean away morning bruises.

-Jade B.