A first floor cremation
urn gallery comes to me

in a dream
where I’m riding east—

a river crosser, muse
lover—lusting for a guardian

angel who can’t be
touched. Live human flesh

before me, he must remain
straight ahead, slightly

elevated—never false.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s