我一直在将人生转成文字 |【珍的诗】连载七

01

Someone magically

took my leash off

and I was so scared

I pretended it was

still there even

tighter than before. 

"Ahem," said the magic voice.

"You're free—

didn't you notice?

Why don't you run off

like any lucky

animal?"

And I said, "Don't tell lies.

I won't listen".

That was years ago.

Now I'm shivering, tired,

tied out alone in the

black wind.

I keep tugging

at the leash that isn't there

but seems so real. 

Real scissors

won't cut

that kind of leash.

So I'm making

imaginary ones

which snip

the dream leash

into a thousand silver

pieces—

that melt before my

dream-real eyes.

02

My dreaming self

Looked in the window

And saw me on the bed.

Moonlight filled

My sleeping skull.

I lay nude and still.

My dreaming self

Came in

And walked about.

I felt as if doorknobs turned,

Opening rooms up

In my head.

My dreaming self

Had eyes like keys

That glinted in the dark.

There was no closet

Within my bones

They could not unlock.

My dreaming self

Walked through

The framework of my soul.

He switched lights on as

he passed. Outside the night

Was dark and cold.

My dreaming self

Lay on the bed.

I stood aside with awe.

“Why, both of us are one, ” I said.

He said, “I thought you knew.”

03

I've always transferred my life to letters,

and one day it will reside

exclusively in written nouns and vowels,

clean paragraphs

distilled from mysterious life's days.

Even before death's event

I plan my mind's resting place

as if there is a second life

in thought's products that defies

the brain's shorter span, and rises

sans blood, flesh, hand or eye,

self-contained, truly alive at last;

like some mental balloon

set on a safe course finally

through unexplored skies

when the hand that holds it

lets it go.