A man with dragonfly wings and a ravens head interrupted a dream where the moon was dying and the sun was burning its last match
He spoke in clicks and clacks and had hooves for feet and told a story of the birth of the first star who had no father or mother
Lost and alone in an infinite darkness the star had little to do but ponder if there was any difference between reality and fiction and which one it belonged to
Did it belong to a dream or a wish or was it an illusion or a trick or was it just imagining itself and maybe it wasn't even a star
Maybe it wasn't anything at all
Maybe it was nothing more than a feverish thought of a mad god with dragonfly wings and a ravens head and hooves for feet who had murdered his mother and father
He made a noise that sounded something like a cackle and a snarl and then hovered for a moment before flying off into a blood red sky
The dream flickered back into focus and the sun had no flame or fire and the moons corpse floated out in a burning boat towards oceans end
Its last dream wrapped in velvet bandages dangled in a starless sky humming a silent song only the first star ever born could hear

On the outer
carapace of it,
     all seems ok
I am held
together by
single dry thre
                        a ds
like wire
and strips of
sinews
they keep me
tightly-wrapped,
a package of
molten powders
secret dynamite
waiting to
    e x p l o d e  in
exotic ticks
      of clockwork
but one scratch
beneath the surface
reveals my
inner truth:
How I wish,
by those
whorled and spiraled
powers above,
for the gently fluted
forces of my being
to be parted
like sacred seawater
with my psyche
   f l o a t i n g
just beyond
the zing of
       my brain,
no rational
           understanding
required
yes. I long
to be ever-slowly
           unraveled,
layer by layer
cell by cell
until all that is left
are the platelets
pulsating between
this heart
           and yours
each beat
betraying an
acute intensity
of how
I felt it,
      this tender
electricity
that crackled
        through and
                 between
            our bones
          from the
        very
      beginning
of
    our quiet blaze
our pinnacle
our quirky
metallic
     textures
our breath
mingling over
airwaves
         in heated
                 fluidity
   hotly drenched
in the iridescent
  dust of our
     star-marked
                     time

Do you remember
The fairy tales we spun
On those blazing summer noons
When the road tar was melting
And we bunked classes
To be under the forest flame
Shadowed from the world outside
When we thought time would be immortal
As you wiped the sweats from my forehead
And with every thread of yarn
I would grip you harder
In an effort to prevent gravity
From letting those moments fall
Into the abyss of memories.

Do your eyes still see the Prince
That never took you away
When you tell your grandkids
The fairy tales?