I swim toward a room.
The door is open, yet dark.
Someone is there, hidden.
I shout out vaguely
like a toothless dog
growling at shadow.
*
In this dream, I am other;
not the dream where I see
myself as some other:
I’m a mobius strip
made of my flesh
rendered to a game
where dice clack quietly
into the thinning air.
(December 31, 2019)
subtext 