she slept on the roof the night before last
where the sunshine lived on in warm splinter shingles
and sang a song that no one heard
and drew a heart that no one saw.

spinning her eyes up towards the sky
sketching lines between the pinpoint stars

as if she could, remember the pictures
they made, and the words she'd scrawled in chalk
on the chimney, on her walls.

in the naked moonlight she sprawled
like she could almost touch infinity
and thought of falling, reaching (for) eternity

let go telling herself, but she can't
forget what's getting so hard to remember.
celestial glow turning the tears silver

,precious metal scattered on her skin
beneath the veil painted fingernail thin.
life the puzzle where the pieces don't fit
consciousness the meeting ground

of reality and dreams, in excess of both.
so she imagined the sky a cloth of sequin stars,
that the seams weren't so very far away
and that

one day
she'd just jump up and fly right through
a crack in the heavens, to another time that isn't today
before tomorrow creeps in from the east
staining the mountains, eyes wide open still asleep.