this is a good pill

             like walking through

             a garden of coral

for now is enough
to be unmoored

post-hope
you reach up and pluck

the sky resonates
you eat a piece of rain—

                        the dream I
             left in your pocket

             I defined as imaginary unit

                          the desire of matter

             to be pulled back
                         into ribbons of light—

it stays in you like a prize or a color