Dream

You asked for a pencil;
I gave you empty air.
The house floated
Through the trees
Along with other homes
Made of cardboard.

You sat on the floor
With fairy wings
And a bright smile,
While the walking dead
Waited outside the burning hotel.

I walked through the market
And bought plastic peppers,
While you carried your child
Into the still lake.

And the apple strung branches
Of glistening white,
In the peeled dusk of autumn,
Sang ritual prayer
To the black worms
That crept
Through the graveyard.