I think it’s almost finished dreaming.
That was three days ago. I haven’t slept since. The dreams have started bleeding into the daytime—hallucinations of glass flowers growing from the floorboards, the child’s voice whispering from the sink drain, the smell of rain that hasn’t been scheduled yet. Last night, I found a photograph on my phone that I didn’t take: me, standing in that field of glass, holding the hand of a woman whose face I couldn’t remember forgetting. ovo 1.3.2
I woke up with a bruise on my palm shaped like a question mark. I think it’s almost finished dreaming
Not a light. A warmth . Like an egg remembering the hen. standing in that field of glass
Ovo 1.3.2 sat on the table. Its hum had dropped half an octave.