You said something about flowers.
Apparently a man stood in your way.
There was a desk with no paper or pen.
You wore a lavender sweater & prayed
At night, terror pulled you
from sleep. A shadow standing over you.
A rosary swung from a bird’s beak.
You crawled out your window, hoping
to catch dust from the last falling star.
You breathed in the scent of Moonflower
from your vision.
Everything became holy & scattered.
Your hands trembled, petals crushed
in your palms.
At dawn, you found yourself
sitting in a Redwood forest,
Imprints of faerie wings
on your arms.
Eyes becoming one
with a nearby stream…
This poem was published in Issue 1 of BAD ACID LABORATORIES INC.