.
She said that nothing makes the softest pillows--

Illusions get locked behind doors
in the dissolving sand castles,
to narrowly escape on the thin dangling threads of summer starlight.

Atlantis wants to surface and touch her hand--
To feel the warmth that rises to the surface of her olive skin.
As soft as the sea where the wind doesn't blow--

Until each baby blue eye mimics the sky.

She fluffed up her pillow and  she
disappeared.



.