Tidied up, in the hope
that new words will present themselves
eclipsed evening passes
red moon bitten over the horizon
It's all apart of the Dream!
Can you dredge up meaning
from the sediment in the bathtub
skin washed off before touch
metaphors interrupted by sleep
stealing someone else's dream.
The window troubles peace.
Every morning brings you home.
Bottles hanging from your arm
and with the other you choke my waist.
A rattle, a shake, a goose-bumped highway
Leonard calls it a Morning Glory
You call it breathing.
It's a reason to wake up
Milk splashes on cereal
Your hand clenches my wrist
before I write everything down
Still, you don't believe a word
and say no one else will either
but hope unties the ribbon
Drums bring back the stragglers
typed tight and clearly precious
You hesitate too well
so truth remains undistrurbed

oops...undisturbed