I.
When sleep drifts down
and settles over me
like snow
upon a broken church organ…

when a shadow emerges from the whiteness, and
flings itself down upon the frozen keys, and
the brittle pipes ceaselessly scream in pain…

is how nightmares are made.

II.
When I plant a figment into my pillow,
then go to sleep...
a fairy would tip-toe in during the night
and blossom it into that familiar, lovely,
radiant face, irresistible eyes, kissed by
someone else.

III.
When I’m ebbed away
in sleep’s lethargic waves,
lying limp, head half submerged,
I feel tears mingle with the dark waters.

Reflections of stars illuminate my frame,
rising and falling, cradled by
nothingness.

Nowhere to float to, no sun to snatch me,
no eyes to meet, faces to see, except
hers, light solidified,
angel voices
substantiated,
dream

eternal.

IV.
A seaside promenade
immersed in gray mist;

an endless jetty jutting into nothing –

A tender, white hand
lying in mine…

A sudden fall
into black waters,
emerging into

sprawling bedsheets and
blinding windows.