On your fingertips dandelion stops, 12am
and the black hole in your belly grows.
You wonder if it will suck you in eventually.
1am, dandelion rises up and drifts to the windowsill
on your anxious breath. Look out, invisible bars.
By 2am your handprint is fixed into the glass. Dandelion dances
across your arm and down towards the fireplace.
It can feel the inhale of the chimney.
3am goes unnoticed as you cram your body up
the chimney after it, ignoring the flames engulfing your legs.
A sneeze confuses dandelion
as it trails back to watch you burn slowly,
4am chiming hollow in your ears.
Dandelion nests in your hair at 5am,
attempting to restart your brain
so you can see you have now become the fire.
The birds twitter when 6am arrives;
dandelion plays the music notes in the air
and leads you to the bath
where your blistered and charred skin
can be soothed by ice water.
7am, and it looks like you haven’t struggled at all.
Treeshallow Musings 