My Bed Up There

in dreams,

subtleties become poignant frustration, half alive and half stiff like death
or just strange
and every five seconds the ghost mice scurry on the floor
leaving subtle brown tunnels

to wake up angry about nothing, about death
tell yourself again “I just have the time”
to be a lady with tunnels and time too
and to yearn always for the context
from a forgotten phantom or forgetful ghost
suggests a question of sexuality

in dreams,

suggestions are half stiff, like death
but light enough to wake a lady for five small seconds
enough time to see one mouse turn tunnel
and she could only be so lucky