a dream

The lake of yellow glass reflects pink clouds

that billow in heaping pillows, lit

from behind. Figures step

out the doorway at my back,

cross the water that teems with the

shadows of monsters,

and climb clouds like hills.

They grow, or the clouds shrink.

They leap and laugh and fill the sky.

I stand at the shore---

weighted with my stillborn dream.

My bones are hollow, but

I cannot cross with this unfamiliar load.