A space for documenting dreams.
A mother held her daughter on a rocking chair, telling stories about God.
She hears a loud knock on the door, escalating.
Another woman, yelling, asking mother to open up.
Mother walks to the door.
"The bees are coming. Bees fill your car."
Mother walks outside, trips and falls as she steps on bees.
Mother lays on ground, feels the bees on her neck.
Mother wakes up, without a daughter.
If a snake laughed like humans do--opened her mouth and exhaled,
would a snake spatter venom?
Is that why a snake is in the hiding?
Does a snake know how happy a snake can be there,
in the void of the earth,
Does her venom turn into honey inside a bee’s stomach?
Does it smoothen the rocks?
Tell me, does it feel good to be this solitary?
I found a lake underneath my chest.
It grew water lilies but I put them to rest.
Because my chest is a nest, like a spider net,
It shatters when wet.