The In-Between

The floor, suddenly,

is white—occasionally,

bits of a black-hole-looking

grayish-black make a gap

where the sun might shine

on the dirt plains below.

It looks like a map, something I

remember from geography class,

once most of the white has cleared

and soon I'm looking at what must be Idaho,

and I wonder if maybe that's Utah to our right

but there's no way,

the earth can't be that small;

the roads look like liquourice strings

and the snow on the mountains looks like

icing

without enough powdered sugar,

liquidy and translucent and maybe we forgot the egg whites, too.

the floor looks

comfy and soft, like you and I

could sleep on it,

except that

you like hard beds

and we might fall through.

-ELT 12 April 2012