there is a crack running the length of Main Street; when it rains the crack fills and flows like a river. Tonight it is raining Oil slicks on the road reflect street lamps; artificial Northern Lights.
He hadn’t paid his power bill, so he leads me through his apartment by the light on his phone. In his bedroom I see the mess even in the almost dark. His bed is a mattress on the floor; sheets barely cover it. He lets go of my hand, pulls his shirt over his head. The light flickers as the phone battery runs low; he puts the phone away. He undresses me. In the dark I stand, naked, in front of him.
But then I reach for this zip along my side. The zip begins under my arm and runs the length of my torso. There is another along the length of either leg — hip to ankle.
I step out of my skin.
A river runs out of me like the one in the crack along the sidewalk.
I’m much smaller now much more myself.
published at Uneven Floor Poetry http://unevenfloorpoetry.blogspot.com.au/2016/03/i-keep-having-this-dream-where.html