songduciel

bare feet carve paths into the snow

a fleck of snow lands on my tongue, dissolving in its warmth 

flavorless and sweet, the fading taste of candy 

the salt of the warmth, the iron of red lakes

i roll off from the table

landing in a box filled with hay

finally, i think

i’ve found my rightful place

then i look around

the strings of hay

entangling themselves 

i bend myself to fit them

a dream, swirling in my tired mind, a sequence of letters makes a word.

my brain aches, an onslaught of countless words and numbers.

Get up, grasp the dream, make it out.

Get up, identify it!

Get up!

Get up!