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Beamdust
In a dream,
all is tangible,
albeit ephemerally.
And it was there I saw you
draped in discontent
so I called you over.
And oh, how receptive you were.
Infected, and looking for treatment,
release;
a saturated cloud
searching for something to wet.
But your cry
was intercepted
by the morning sun;
rays through a bedside window
carry
Reality's awakening scorch
and no longer
may we be as one.
Dust dances in a beam:
reminder of the hidden toxins
that cough us awake
and apart.
