I wake to blackbush scrubs
Growing over the bed,
A hanging garden
Drooping from the ceiling.
You are seated
On a teak wood stump.
An umbilical cord
Hangs from your mouth,
Its tip flickering
Like a live wire.
Your tongue shoots out,
Its serpentine fork
Catching it, pulling it
In to swallow.
I rise from the bed,
Go down on all fours.
A Catahoula jumps
On my back.
You command him,
“Take the reins, boy.
The roads are fierce,
The cold wind rises,
But the stars are yours,
And their words are endless.
Jonathan Simkins lives in the Denver area of Colorado. He works as a psychiatric registered nurse. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Carcinogenic Poetry, The Chaffey Review, Lost Coast Review, The Road Not Taken, and Stepping Stones Magazine.
–Art by Karamelo
–Art by Mariya Petrova-Existencia