In Reverie

Lana Cortes

It’s exactly as you’d imagined it to be

All the while you’d never been

Still you delineate a detailed apparition

Intimate advances on assorted spirits

embellishing night tables and white throws

with opaque silhouettes

escorted by an arenaceous dusk

Liberated from your chameleon disposition

I find myself frequently greeted by the recurrent residence

of the complex agony of inevitable miscalculation

The consistent cycle of “fire-and-miss”

By the intermittent howls from the lungs of inadequacy

as my fingertips graze your plethora of definitions

I fail to grasp the answers in arm’s reach

What is sufficient?

In relation to knowing

there will always be more

where you extend a seemingly virtuous palm?

Why wrap just one around your finger

when there are a number of less than coiled limbs unaccounted for?

So still

You call out my name in a vehement whisper

Echo through the disarray

Coo that you lust for a simper

evidently of your own doing

But this season has proven to be colder than last

And I’ve since divorced the contentment

I’d once found leaping to meet biting promises

as they whistled about the labyrinth of your cheek

& escaped a most versatile merciless jaw

You the glass

I the sand

A shift in direction

knowing I will fall through you

time & time again

You’ll stretch moments with an unfaltering gaze

yet expedite my farewell

My only alleviation

internal plague

or imminent demise