In the depths of slumber I find
my way through the passage of night.
Dreams repeat one into the other
until you are no longer within reach
but a far off memory from a waking life.
Transparent mica from an ancient site
of subconscious, not even that,
something sparkling that disrupts the air
until I too am transformed to the
flickering tongue of a snake foraging
the wayward river as fluid as the night.
art by Boyana Petkova