Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋

I’m Supposed To Title This?

Forest Nights Sensed

I had waking nightmares mustache hairs were trying
to shake hands with the gray nose outcrop
reaching low, while wily eyebrows wound like winter vines
spiky-hung to look in any open cave.

Ear hairs collectively sang a chorus in their cramped theater.
Little space for any other sound to wedge within,
when I did not hear you. Eyes strained in an antique white-walled room,
scrutinizing pale lips, your dilated orbs, well spaced
from furred furrows silent arced language.
A protracted scene induced rising, flooding in chambers.
Clogged heart suffocating, breath going out
did not receive good molecules in return. My hands trembled
but did not bridge a division growing without
and I could smell everything with a grease-fried, crisp tongue,
skewered.

Oxygen rained on a weathered, soft canopy. Moist and humid,
loss resurrected my soft spine, straightened at shoulder,
spanning out to search your grace, touch skin in dark,
when I woke.

I have yet to find you in these forest nights.

2.17.23

New title a little too contrived, on the nose, poem all together too confusing, some or all of the preceding?

I went live before I had a satisfying edit…not sated yet.