Maps for future dreams

As mirrors bend
She lies upon the bed
and travels in the spheres of mind
weightless

There is no sense in the rain
Sliding down her face like
silent satellites,
tracing winter’s lonely sun.

Moths perch upon her fingernails
chewing up the dirt of days
exposing stardust.

Like the thump of an equine
Echoes come before the sound
Notes are off
and lyrics make no sense

but still, she whirls, crumpling paper planes –
A drunk Sita
Made to dance within the grip
of epileptic winds

there,
Creeping roses glitter and
course the air like medicines of a bhakt.

Masking the smell of bitter love
cyanide starts
reaching for the tongue.

She is more than opium

The drug for all drugs
She is the point, the pivot –
The addiction that cures addictions.
Not some tired signpost with
graffiti on its shoulders.

Now and then,
when she wakes
these thoughts of her
are captured in his notebook

Maps for future dreams

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