I have 8 skinny legs
Fragile as feather hairs
In a light breeze of a hazed sky
Migraine hangover
Lost connection
to my solid self’s guts
Heartbroken for Glory’s moment
I held the wand and the sword
Before dropping them submerged
Under domestic dishwater
Startled again by smirking threat
Retreating to imagination’s dystonic web
Where dew collects in the fall
Of the sweat of a summer dream
