lucid dreaming

i took my body and put it inside another. being, feeding,
dying, sleeping, encased in the gallows of a yearning. a
weeping willow and a silver rowboat kissing each other,
laughing. ten thousand people, maybe more.

his face moves but not quickly enough – difficult to discern
this porous child. said he’d like to be more expressive like
me and i haven’t the wherewithal to describe just how
much it hurts to walk this way.

imagine the inside, drink it with talcum powder, obfuscate
the origin. it’s easy: 1, 2, 3, and so on. fell victim to the
miracle of my feet moving without me, rendering me long
fears, and torn up napkins. i was waiting for you then and
still am.

V.S. Ramstack is a poet breathing in Chicago. She received her BA in English + Gender, Women, & Sexuality studies from University of Minnesota and her MFA from Columbia College Chicago. Previous work can be found in Posit, Curator Magazine, Anti-Heroin Chic, Across the Margin, and elsewhere.