Paperweight

The breeze sweeps the forest away,

The night swallows my heart whole,

My head, it rests against the pillow,

And my ear pressed against the soft fabric,

Listening to the emptiness beyond. 

Eyes close and it’s a dream that I meet,

And I see me and them 

And me. 

And the garden full of 

Orange explosions that have been 

Paused,

Made to stand still and bloom,

Bloom as flowers.

And a window in the airplane,

My sight covered by majestic clouds,

As we descend from the stratosphere,

Clouds and clouds

Like cotton-candy 

and cotton 

and a thought. 

The plane ventures into a cloud 

as big as it can get,

and the blinding whiteness, 

envelops us, 

some hygroscopic nuclei and turbulences later,

 we emerge.

And a rainbow,

That isn’t all curves,

But the tip of a cylinder,

Pointed toward me, 

And it 

Expands, expands

Like a warm feeling in the stomach

Or a chain-reaction somewhere. 

I see this and I see me,

I see paper,

A sheet of paper,

Iridescent,

All but flying like it should,

Weighed down,

By expectations,

And images,

And ideals,

And what it cannot be.

And the forest that was blown away 

Is but the abandoned house,

The medley, the pillow cover,

The shivers, the bugs,

The fights and involvements,

A hole in the loop of time,

A crater on hearts,

 A disappearing memory

 And an eternity.