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Untitled
I open the bathroom counter
For some cure to my insomnia to find
-- You won’t believe me --
writhing, tender shoots of unadulterated aroma
lavender and if I am right –
spicy orange slices
stretching their acidic veins out from the caresses of
the blue
glass
bottle
floral fingers of vine gently
gracing
between reality and
fantasy
there is no resisting as the
curling infantile wood wraps around
my cold shoulders, lifting me
up, up, to infinite sky
I fly
into violet dreams
of midnight.
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