Let’s dream away the darkness
after the car wreck. Let’s put our brightest lights
back inside of ourselves.  

Sleepwalkers carry flashlights, knives,
mouthfuls of spit. Let’s ignore them.
We’ll sleep to music and cicadas the cat loves.  

Our last day on earth was yesterday.
I never forget a face, even buried
beneath sooty soothing ground.  

Tonight, alone or loved, it’s complicated,
our bodies caught in a net,
tongues turned to three-piece suits,  

all stiff and unexpressive, I mean,
our breath still floating somewhere
far, far away from us.