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Tried my left side. Flashed
on my bedroom at home.
Pin clean, pretty in
mauve, a ballet of pink
butterflies on the walls,
pillow-top mattress to die for.
Flopped onto my back. Found
the keyhole behind my eyes,
squeezed through, into sleep.
Not slumber, but sleep just this
side of waking, where dreams
fuse with reality.
Through the Keyhole
I found myself in a meadow,
brilliant green beneath a soft
wash of sunshine.
I moved at a near sprint,
drawn toward a symphony,
primitive passion.
Lovemaking.
Wildcats mating, snarls at
the joining, satisfied roars
signaling completion.
I slowed, shifted upwind,
crept very near,
somehow unafraid.
Fascinated.
Some movement gave me
away. Exquisite feline eyes
found me in the grass,
