After

To look at her, you’d never think she was the sort

to hide a flask away in her sock drawer

To need a little snort before

bedtime twice a week

To wake up at 2a.m. in a cold sweat

because she dreamed of the house she lived in when she was only 12

How could such a regular girl cry in her sleep

when there’s nothing but sun light to wake her

and the quiet stillness of subconscious memories --

stained on inner eyelids, imprinted on unseen sight,

pooled between fleshy skin and airy spirit

How much can you possibly know of anyone?

as the sun rises, sleeps and rises east

then calls the good world awake 

for putting dreams to bed

Days end; worlds spin

Sadness comes and goes

And Sunday mornings, she pulls on her boots

and goes to church to sing