This poem is the memory of a dream.

————

A tarred sky surrounds

a wooden house with wooden walls that slide open to let the wind gasp through.

The only light a glow of yellow within its bleak innards.

My mouth forms unheard word.

All but one dissipates.

A figure stands outside an open frame.

A too familiar soul whose eyes I despise.

In his hand he holds a clear bottle. He drinks from it once.

A rushing stream cascading into his mouth;

the stinging taste of rum.

There are secrets dancing behind closed lips.

Twisting, unfurling knots.

As his eyes drift, I follow

to the wall illuminated by golden light.

and my silhouette atop a shadow.

By Catori Sarmiento

From: United States

Website: http://www.catorisarmiento.com

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/pages/category/Author/Catori-Sarmiento-927999963984825/