Where We Dreamt Together Poem by gregory collins

The black of the night sky adores the paralysis of my
eyes. Like a mirror told me birds cannot reach where

there are no walls; Like i sometimes look for mushrooms
so i can be the thread that goes through the needle.

But in tall grass, where light is so heavy i finally forget
to wake. It is just a matter of time before we realize the sky

is just ponds of sleeping planets, with no desire to stay
concealed. Like the way someone grows old for you on

the fire escape, or in the safety deposit box of sleep: Like
the way thorns set the table for the rose, because its color

will never wear out the scabbard of its scent. It will always
remind me of where we dreamt together, and how my eyes

had better get going before your hand approaches, and
the four seasons start believing the world is getting smaller.

The world is a cobweb folding up the petals of a flower,
because the spider cares little about the stories of color

or the fact that we dreamt together without ever saying goodbye.