woke up and there was doom, so much
it was like I was drinking it from a cup
perhaps it’s because I dreamt of those black
ribbons that like to get tangled in my hair
that damned pretentious silk
I feel them now but I have to forage for
those twisted inky feminine cords
don’t you see them
you have to see them I swear
you insist they aren’t even there
I know I must give up my lost search
not question this pain on earth
long to walk without a step
breathe but not take a breath
just be and not let go yet
had a dream that I was playing the violin last night.
their scrolls were bobbing in the ice, the vapor was
freezing on the strings.
made me want to reach for my rosin,
but instead I felt your hand pulling me
out of my dream.
hear the static voices screaming, SHEILA!
cry out as the spirits jump on top of me,
causing me to fly much like her blossoms
that blew in our yard last night.
the flowers looked like paper mâché hearts,
the white and pink on them torn.
much like my far-gone heart, beaten and worn.
watched the wind make them scatter and I’m
wondering how I let myself even
care that they mattered.