Through what lucid dreaming
Did my feet find purchase on the clouds?
To stay afloat.
Clear my head of earthly weight
And slip my problems in the drops of rain.
Stick out your tongues
And some will taste of salt.
Others will burn right through to the bone of your jaws.
But it will always be explained away
When clouds snuff out the burn of the day.
“That rain is from the sea,” they’ll say,
And you may nod,
Be on your way.
But I occupy the witching dark
That whispers find
And rumors mark
As undefined and undiscovered.
I am the lark’s bound beak and tongue,
With knowing eyes
And song unsung,
High above my pedestal
Of unrained rain and drops of blood,
With heart unwrung.