Face mashed
in the mattress,
I awake to a mysterious alarm,
my left hand tracing the map of my stomach,
right hand clutching my throat

I am still
as morning dew
on a Japanese maple leaf,
long before dawn cracks and
burns me off

Nestled in the woods of my mind
quiet thoughts roost,
I slumber in distant, syrupy visions, and
waken to the quickening pulse of sparrow songs
that vibrate my bedroom window

My fingers spread
apart the cobwebs, searching for a clearer view,
They get dirty turning over the topsoil,
revealing spongy red loam below,
encrusted with minerals
that leave a metallic morning tang on my breath

I lay in the sweat of
my bed, a cottony tongue
probing my mouth for
remnants of an ever-fading reverie

Alas,

for when I arise, when I bathe and brush,
the remains of my heavenly maple syrup dream
will dry and crack and drown
in the shower drain

07/21/2003