In my deepest dreams I find my way back
to the old house, before it was destroyed
and restored, when at night it was
surrounded by dark woods and the
sounds of night creatures and pond frogs,
and a train in the distance; I slept there
then and I do again. And again. It’s sticky
and too much, too deep. A house of
honey for me to fly in, drown in.
melissa suarez
melissa 