Dreams

Blame the dangerous shapes of our jaws, perilous cliffs silently boasting the bodies they've claimed — our first kiss the gauging of an equal, our first dream the names of our children Joya, Layla and the shape of jaws to come

When I sleep, sparks bathe my eyelids, reality dissolves to reveal the bones of a universe still alive. absences gather like summer flies and draw patterns on the wall. We pose there, motionless, and with each blink, the world rebuilds itself, more fragile than before. These dreams linger with their phosphorescent grain, they prove that elsewhere exists, and that words, when properly used, can piece together what was shattered.