Reoccuring Dream

Black clump dust

swirls

thick and sticky.

We shout, our voices

howls

in the wind.

I hunker down,

ceramic white my

shield

and the wind

roars

by.

Afterward, the

slow drip leak

is a

flood in his room,

will

swallow

us up.

We are mid-flee,

a car hood propped –

lime green, smooth

like chocolate –

when my eyes

crackle

open.

 

One of them has

never

swept through me

before.

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