The dream wraps around my body
as sheets of sweat.
trees tilt sideways
into a door of lost expectations.
I reach for a metal bar
suspended from a cloud.
It yanks itself out of my hand
and transforms its steel iciness
into your flesh.
A cellophane curtain
slams me to the ground
splitting your atoms from mine.
You turn your face away
and dissolve into a milkshake.
I drink you and my gut collapses
in agony as sharp as flint
I beg my eyes to open
but my lashes are glued by mascara allure
and my tears slide into twisting rivers
down cheeks of marble.
Then a scream chases me into an alley
where a hundred “No Exit” signs fly
at me cutting my glory
into bits of nothing.
--Rosalyn Marhatta lives in her own world to write and pops out sometimes to perform her poetry at local coffee shops and the public library. She believes no matter what happens, there's most likely a poem in there somewhere. She’s gotten published in The Dead Mule and Referential Magazine, Poems2Day and Diamond Diva Magazine.