In dreams my ex-lovers show up unannounced
I dream. I premonition. You mosquito me.
Suck to suck dry. It’s August, I bait the trap.
Still you keep coming.
You keep whiskey time. I disassociate.
We heat lightning – no, we chromatic scale –
out of each other’s arms. And I climb,
crackle to wakefulness, cold pillow.
I am too tired to elucidate what it means
to be alone. It’s cut time.
After, I molasses my way back to sleep.
The way I left was not foresight. I am
opal. Disintegrate slowly. You nimbus
cloud, you rainwater bathtub:
the dandelion on the lawn never had it so good.
When I dream again, it’s not like you
quick as a minnow or sinking stone.
It’s a smolder of ash, a cloak of snow, a hum
caught in the back of a smoking throat.
Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram
Georgia Hertz (she/her) is a queer artist, musician, and writer from the foothills of North Carolina. She is a current MFA candidate at Carlow University’s MFA program in creative writing. Her poems have been published most recently in Frozen Sea, Gleam, and Homology Lit.
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