you were sleeping and someone whispered something
in your ear, a rabbit-hole cochlea and a certain disconnect
before it taps out code on your brain. the message is garbled
and your subconscious hears it wrong. you smile in your sleep
regardless. the sleep/wake cycles coming like fireflies looking
for mates, desperate in the warm summer air. miniature flash
bulbs saying i am here, i am here. but you were never there.
i smeared phosphescent glow where i crushed one and then
put my lips to the fading green and kissed you on the mouth.
now i wait for you to turn over, to seek me out with your hand,
pull me towards you. i flash a light at you i am here, i am here
but you don’t wake up.