Dreams

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Plush sky, moonless.
Behind careless clouds
the moon hides
its frown, craters: ancient
battle scars. Constellations
kept from sight; no stars
to trace, no reason
to wonder ,
if a wish will radiate
forever into space,
or if it will catch
the tail of a comet
to some other place
that is hidden,
like memories,
when they slip
through the cracks
of your mind, nestled
in your psyche
where even your roots
don’t reach.

But during sleep
they break soil
like miniature fireworks
exploding at the seams;
the nonsensical imagery
of dreams:
your coded reminder
that everything
lingers…

Jackie Ann 2019