Still dreaming, I have my eyes open.
—
My body awakens from stirring death
and tingles blackness away with a moan
and a deep breath wills me into
—
realizing how those funny wrinkles
make a tide that glides through the window cracks
and crashes yellow silver onto my
—
orbs, who begin to notice that I
have hands; they are curled up like they could
punch the daylights out of my teddy bear
—
who doesn’t seem ready to run. I
un-cover a toe and find that the air
is a lot cooler than dreaming is. But
–
maybe if I stretched enough and
sat up beyond my yawning covers, I
could awake, wiggle nonchalantly in
—
the cold, and stand before the morning.
Copyright of Jessica Anne McLean, 2008, all rights reserved. Started July 26, 2008.
The Rose 
Leave a comment