Osmosis

Days burn into gummy
sleep exploding

kindred, splintered
spoon-lakes, vicious

gulls and mean, sweaty
carnivals. I'm jealous

of your dreams; kites
lift you over oceans—each

phosphorescent fish
a mirrored hinge

of constellation. Some nights
you're hired just to sit

at diners and eat endless
plates of eggs. Sometimes

it's a bed made of helium
balloons that jar

during sex. Yes, red.
So here—press

your forehead
to mine like a goat.

Copyright © 2006 Lauren Goodwin Slaughter All rights reserved
from Fugue
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission