Sleep Paralysis

Where are you but in dream, an image, words strung together that always find me when I need you? Yes, I need you and I know it because you find me down amongst the mire, preserved, mummified, crusty dry bone, yet I see you — like me, pickled by the elements, taken in and down, bog shrined.

You may not know it but my spirit soars with an eye toward the remains, earth relic, layered to stone, transmuted and two-headed. Such a process, the pressure, pushed and dried, buried soft bits hardened in time and, by time.

How is it that you know the cypher, all the little bone lines, sunken sinew, silk rot — what is there is there for you only, a tuft of hair, a Queenly heart, and mud, yes, you know by the tools, jars, and prayer scrolls.

A kiss for a Kiss
Bone to Bone
Sacrement
and song

Where are you in this mess of blackness, blind be blind but I see your words and hear, faintly, a sound like a chant, your time in mine, in this dark earthen den, you are here and reciting secret charms.

A call like a scream
to wake again and
dream a dream
of you and
perhaps
I