August 24, 2000

by plumsouls

Clouds like dragons,

clouds like birds.

The two of us dangle our feet

off the edge of evening and

drink sunset colored cocktails.

I am ready to slip over this ledge,

feel my body slice the space,

silent as a fish.

I know you would not understand

if I told you

shipwreck visions float

up with the freckles on your forehead.

And would you be anything less than offended if I said

in your arms, I am held by a ghost?

The sky is bruised with violet continents,

and the first stars, so far off, make me feel

I am sinking,

but it is the sinking into a vast sleep

where I will rise and float.

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