In slumber

In slumber

Notes left while sleeping, hope on the wake

To exit slumber and read a single page

Waiting as if pausing on mail received in an unopened letter

Of your preserved response hovering there in print

Like a monarch in orange and black fluttering

And buffering the taint of doubt with the taste of possibility

Still wet in the waft of air sliding across

Careful not to breathe in too deeply as to consume

Use it up like a junkie transforming from intoxication to pursuit

Of that lost high light watering the tongue in desert droplets

Parceled out in singular expressions of wonderment

Prancing on sunbeams sliding down like children at amusement parks

In glee at the roller coaster of packaged strapped down entrees

Of knowledge arriving at my station and I want and I don’t want

To discover the contents of the glued down seals of your

Judgments scattered out in some you-determined quantity of letters

Arranged in an algebra of variables I have no control over the syntax

Of ex’s  and why’s and this time equal to a tax extension

Filed for and granted without word or actual response

Just some signed-on form from my assumptions that I have the time

To come up with the answer to the what if’s and unknowns

Of what has been stoned into those words resting on that page

In slumber and wait for me and all I want to keep is this hope

That there is more to read than this has all been taken away

In some conundrum of cursive scroll waiting for me to unroll

And tip toe across my eyes open to the prize or the trap

The rolling boulder barreling down to a flat man cast in a role of the last

Man to fall for the section of choices that left me vulnerable

To your siren chorus of voices believing what I wanted

In place of what should have and answers need not be an end

But definitive in turn that there is a left and a right and get off here

For the ride has ended and the ticket has expired the night again is coming

And I am so tired of this humming bird of indecision fluttering around

This bedroom, beautiful but noisy, painted in colors, should be flying free

And to open the door to the bird’s freedom I must read, listen and believe that whatever is written

Has already been given to me in peace to see something beautiful stay or leave

The answer has already landed I just need to breathe