I keep waking up from a dream
where we swallow memories whole
and dance through constellations meant
to teach us these grand lessons -
sparing our lives from the heartaches
of overly explored youth and poor radio DJs.
It's a place where wildflowers
sing names we dare not speak
as snowflakes etch out faces
of wilted remains so we do not
weep - not here. Not there. I mean.
Everything smells of steeping tea
rationalizing melodies so far faded
even sorrow does not taste of
their perfume or tangerine gums of choice.
We move along through a landscape
that bears the weight of ache for us
and in turn we become museums
free to the public - a story to
live instead of learning from.
-M. Rene' AKA SincerelyBlueJayPoetry 2021
This was another one from Sabrina Benaim's Button Up workshop. On May 16, featuring and celebrating the works of Rudy Francisco. This piece in particular came from a prompt inspired by Again after Ainsley Burrows which I believe can be found in his collection Helium. About coming back and all the times and ways you could use a dream world in poems today.
