Houses with sun lit rooms, going into hallways, going back into new rooms, to the same halls.
There you are, always standing. Always.
Sometimes I've confused you with others, but I know the moon when I see it shine it's soft blue glow.
Your hands melting through the wallpaper.
Saved me, then threw me from the sails, just to save me again.
I look away, run through rooms, and you're in the door way.
You walk toward me, I feel the warmth, and let it fill me with a heaviness that will never set. Creeping up my chest and crawling through my mouth.
I put my hands over, to silence, whatever it is, words that have solidified.
I sit on the edge and look down. Legs dangling, as reckless as you left me.
Look up, the sun is bright.
You see her, wafting down in scents with lilac and lemon in her hair.
Eyes catch but your hands don't, flitting through.
Dance in these halls tonight.
Summer children.

-Saree McClaran
080314

Had a dream that I ate a large orange and blue spider, while explaining to my mom that tarantulas are loving and affectionate to their owners.
My mom stops me and asked why I ate the other spider, and I said "to consume her."

I foraged on my own through the day.
Like carved words on her womb and thighs. I knew it was you.
Her screaming became listless, her pale hands stained blue.
Her eyes were a dark grey haze, looking up reflecting the clouds that drifted by.
Her mind drifted along with them.
I reached down my branches.
Lift up, my darling.
Not the whole world, is so unkind.
Made wings with my leaves and sent her on her way.
She whispered a song on her flight up.
One only mother's know.
And I wept. I wept for centuries, my branches grew longer, reaching for all our children.
A protective net, a web we weaved.
I taught the locust, the crickets, and flies.
And in the spring and summer, you'll hear in unison how the wind still hums.
For you, our little one.

Saree-

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