In her dream of
absolute
Julia May was leaping
In and out of Black Holes;
Snake fingers on the laptop
Lunar music twisted in clasps
Roped algebraic shadows
Wrapped tight
In icy linen
On the glass mountain
Julia May was able to feel
Houses of iron
And houses of brick
Over a park, peppered
With electric lamps and bird droppings
Wrapped tight
Left to soak
In alabaster breath
Wrapped tight
Snow on airy hands
The smell of lead
Julia May was able to see
Egg yoke under a bowl of blue
Shadows of people awake
In her dream city with heavy locks
A town house, on her now island
Wrapped tight
A gasping mouth
To suck the earth
Wrapped tight
In fluid sleep
A scream turned into stone
Wrapped tight
A silver toy hurried from place
By the noon wind
