punctuate ovenbird In dreams I'm always reaching to find the contours of your face. My lips touch the rise of your cheek, my fingers travel through brambles that grow wild on the ridge of your jaw, my nose traces a path from the pinnacle of your brow to the space between your eyes where your soul flashes, a lighthouse signaling safe passage. I search and search for a way to keep you, a way to hold the memory of your body, radiating heat, when I'm dragged, reluctant, into the day. In every dream, no matter how strange, I always love you in my animal way, heart quick with joy and terror, one eye on the lookout for mouths hungry with violent desire. You always come to me gently. You're a comma curled around my frantic story, willing me to breathe. When I wake I exhale, and for a moment you hover in the air around me, then settle like dew. 260709 what's it to you? who go blather from