nankeen nothing

do you remember the dream
when we lessened looped on light
and crashed in verdant streams
and laughed serpentine paths
on which to walk our leashed moths?

do you remember the dream
when our yowls eddied down our throats
and rippled through our bellys' seams
and our tears spelt ribbons
with which to tie the ever present?

can you remember that dream
where the seed swallowed the earth
to swallow the seed the earth
offered to the tree
who dropped it?

and if you listen very closely
can you still hear the marbled mosaic wings
of ten thousand butterflies as they graced our skin
and our gasps and our sighs
as we clutched them crushed them rubbed them in
to hold their hues in hollow pores
and press their pigments through open sores?
can you still hear our prayers for healing?

and in the dark quiet nights
when the dreams leave you alone
can you sense the space between
your eye's lid and lens?
can you touch the depth of Neptune
and let the frozen fingers unfurl
the knots you hide inside you?

do you remember the dream
when we ran from something for so long
we forgot what we were afraid of
and turning, tumbled towards the sun
to glimpse the nankeen nothing?