- Vol. 03
- Chapter 03
DreamsongToday I wear the horizon
like a necklace.
Cruise ships float into my mouth
I swallow them and they fall
off the edge of the world, playing
show tunes, letting go
of swimming pools
and cocktails, of the pockets
of urine in the bladders
of the crew and the passengers,
all of which might rise
like the contents
of bottles of saline
and the lenses that float within
glass jugs of vinegar tip
at the table, but don’t pour.
Spit stills in the mouths
of people who are talking
about falling: in love; out of love;
into bottomless wells of debt.
Falling ill, falling deaf, falling silent,
as the liquid in their inner ears
and the salt of their unshed tears
hangs in space.