Reality

It peeks through the quilted folds
Rolls over and plays dead
Like it doesn’t know
Or doesn’t think that
I can’t see those curly wisps of hair.

Swaddled up
Thick edges
Petering out to papercuts
That won’t ever hurt.

Watery stripes
Edges of more
Cusps of puzzle pieces
Try and grab it
Try harder.
You can’t.

It is real
But it isn’t.
Just like
Everything else.