A Rivulet, a Seam: April 2015 PAD Chapbook Challenge, Day 14

There’s nothing dishonest in saying
that your eyeballs are burning
and that you hope for sleep
to wash over you like a rivulet
of milk, a dusty sweet sourness
of dreams as they really are, not
as they are written down, analyzed.
It’s honest to say that you don’t
know everything, but you hope
to retain what you do know
at least a while longer.
Everything unravels, but
everything refills, re-knits
so that eventually, you can’t
see the seam. That’s the
hope, anyway. The dream.

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