racing the bull
Those dreams were holding me by the throat
as though I was asleep and had no choice
but to face torture behind closed eyes.
I wake from life, of course, with passion.
I wake with grace in my favorite pair of shoes;
and a blanket of apologies forming tears in the corners of my eyes.
The night I wake through is listless.
Finding me giving more than I have
in an attempt to satisfy some unfulfillable desire
to be needed. Yet, finding myself no one’s mother
I wake again. To a new reality, where
silence overturns the aching coos i released
beneath the subtle weight of you.
And when I finally find him, he arrives
unexpectedly early. As though somehow
what we always claimed we didn’t know:
we knew.
These dreams are protectively draped over my body
as though I am asleep and have no choice
but to cling to a comfort so unparallelled.
I wake in life, of course, with passion.
I wake with grace in my favorite pair of shoes;
and a web of secrets manifesting hope in my smile.
Sleep comes like a fever and I’m glad when it ends.