Emitted in the Dark

There has to be a reason to sink beneath the blankets and force myself to sleep. Otherwise, I float above and daydream impossibilities. There above, my sexual fantasies blur into circus acts and climax with a great and terrible fall. Neuroses crafted conversations brew and filter down, half escaping my lips. I practice for performances no grander than a trip to the coffee shop. Here, without reason to sink deeper, I make love to those I’ve never tasted and remind myself to put milk on the grocery list. Here, I imagine lives for the shadows that migrate across my walls and trace the outline of my body to make sure I’m all there. Without reason to sink deeper and find sleep, I am a woman who looks up at the moon and plans to steal its luminosity; just a dreamer with dark eyes open, waiting for a message from the stars, waiting for a turn in complacency. These echoes and fractions of words leave me insatiable, so I fill the space, the ancient memory of your face and call this conversation.