by C.L. Quigley

Last night, I wrote a poem

for you in my dream.

Titled “Islands,”

it must have been about

the water

between hands and bodies

standing alone within the blue.

When I try to remember the poem –

words and letters spelled out

lines without rhymes –

My desire dams the truth.

Past midnight

Over dormant cinder cones

between stars and black –

Letters written on air

in my sleeping brain

evaporate from my pillow.

Above the roof, ink fades –

pages brown.


2 thoughts on “Islands

  1. Great ending image. It just hit me while I was logging in. Ties in with the title and what isolates one from others, dreams, and finding the words for them.

Leave a Reply