intermittent

It’s raining and the window’s closed
summer slipping through the draughts
with the flies that jerk me awake with their
unwanted kisses

I dream of the ocean at night
filled with swimmers running
screaming towards the shore
as the sea sparks with crimson and light

The sheets slip, I flail like a child
searching for the comfort of a teddy bear
not quite awake, and not quite asleep
before the slipstream of dreams
takes me under again

There are ferns in the guttering
and he says I should have known
I should have known
as the sun rises and the shore turns to blood

Salt sweat hair
hands against the wall
eyes open to a ceiling of dark
the memory of dreams fading
to the black behind my eyelids
ragged breaths turning to irritation
at the fly buzzing against my cheek  
keeping me from unbroken dreams

© Indie Adams 2014