Jalisco Composition #1
Dylan Huston
Dreams lend themselves
to my mind’s stove,
are cooked, burned and charred.
Their ashen remains
fall like flakes,
A snow colder than the winter.
My nose is stung,
and in my pain,
I forgot how bad I hurt.
The simple agony as fingers
claw their way
along my thigh, complacently
like a dewdrop
working his way
into bitter leaves
racing against the
abduction of the morning sun.
And the little
home I built
Along the misty lake in my mind,
Is washed away forever.
And though my dreams try to live,
they drown.
And though I try to drown,
I live.