The simple song of a swallow
wakes me and I see you
in retro bell bottoms. Last night
we danced like poppies swayed
by the wind, though we weren't
beckoned to sleep like in the field
near the city of Oz. No witch
or wizard stalked us. I dreamed
of a masquerade full of wild
things. Lions on their hind legs
curtsying, a long dragon with
twenty four legs attempts
the Charleston, a giant praying
mantis doing the Macarena.
Where are you going? I ask
in apology. Away is all you say
and like a single snow flake
in a bare hand. You melt.
19:33
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