by Shannon Huang
the maw in which dreams are held
in which the rivers empty
if our dreams are clouds what keeps them tethered
if our dreams are air what keeps us afloat
if our dreams are dandelion seeds in a bottle
a wish slung around our necks
if our dreams are
the billowing pillowy gauzy
such stuff that dreams are made of——
melts like cotton candy on the tongue
a sugary sticky crumpled heap
and the rivers flood through my veins
the crevice in the chest
slicing through protective wax
letting the golden sweetness
flow
from the ruins of this old city
trickle down my throat
flavored sticky with those sugary dreams