46/365 - 51/365

Within the bedroom,
on the edge of the window,
dead insects collect.
At night their ghosts haunt our dreams,
diving, buzzing in our ears.
•
The clock confirms ten.
Every light in the house burns
against the night's hour—
and I lie in bed waiting
for a deeper darkness.
•
Throughout the full night,
the air conditioner chirped
every five seconds;
I dreamt of fields at midnight,
a wide chorus surrounding.
•
Copper-blue horses
covered with clapperless bells
carry small children—
whose arms are filled with heavy
absence— to see dry rivers.
•
A surprise sense of
contentment emerges when
off of the back roads,
in the middle of dry fields:
one blue pony seen galloping.
•
Random hawks circling
tight spirals over backroads—
they coil summer winds
into a close braid of past,
present, and future tenses.