The pocket for dreams

My body is building defenses

against dark things with layers

upon layers of alternate timelines

where sometimes the heart beats

swimmingly and sometimes it beats

sluggishly – or skips altogether –

and the nerve endings feel like

they’ve been filed down to bare nubs

and my head keeps growing

from the inside, heavy with knowing less

but seeing more and there’s a small space

in reserve for dreams that gets pushed

this way and that but I hold firm

to the one thing I won’t lose.


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