The strains in my chest is the rope of a dream. I wake to his voice. YOU LIFT EVERYTHING WITH THE BACK OF YOUR MIND. Throw me deep into bed, a sheet over my face. He says I PUT MY RADIATION THROUGH YOU LIKE A STEEP WIND but I spend all morning watching my heart fade. Each line of your voice like a expanse of wiring. The weekend a blurry lens. Even when I wake he says YOUR POWER IS THE FEAR OF WAKING. You are next to me even though the light keeps trying to disappear you away. I can’t keep the screen level. I touch you as I would touch a cold oil. I walk the hall a bit worried. I don’t lock the door.
