Fever Dream

It isn’t me,
just the fool or knight–

same symbol: fantasy.
His honey comb eyes

always trap me, shimmer
snare. Hazy sky: day two

feeling muted, held back
or trapped

hiding under the smoked
remains. Lazy suns,

we live through
or ignore it as usual.

Dilution of the self
with every dream given

up–The one where he
releases chains of her curls

out across Lake Michigan,
they tangle through

his fingers, wrap around
all the tendons forming words

into lies, pushing back–This
is my favorite game:

waiting to see which path
the words will take, become…

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