Janna Miller Librarian

Photo by Janna Miller Sonnet for the Dreamers Craving Sleep Thrown knucklebones outside the opera house, Make bets on lines that horses never run. All sober gap-toothed grins that don’t espouse, But simmer underneath the midnight sun. We follow fault-lines in the gritty road, To fertile fields of asphalt-growing flowers. Small words of wonder said in mummer’s code, Release our quiet song to moonlit hour. See unsolved fragments sifting into place, While others shirk and turn away too soon?

As the grocery store stretches into barren shelves of powdered soaps, my hand slips between boxes and end caps to other stores, ones across town, between dimensions. Ones where the cleaning aisle is not lacking, but fully stocked in ways to remove stains to disinfect the damn chair again. The mold has come back in the place you used to touch it, along the curve at the top.