Robert Verdon, #95, escaped dream

sun melts over the horizon like cheese

as I peep through the cracked pane, a hatchling

my escaped dream is a glass pony on a mirror

the taste in my mouth is rain from a steep roof

the people below me inch along ledges

wondering how they came to be in reality

where money cannot yet buy immortality

the sun has never been quite that colour

the window-glass is now whipped egg-white

the pony clatters and drops glass beads

the roof has no walls at all

light turns into grass before my swimming eyes

and cows are taking over

it is not Cockaigne, nor cocaine

perhaps it is time to doze again,

Humpty Dumpty,

but I cannot, and miss all this …