Last night I dreamed I was in
India.
India.
Elephants and houses had
memories as long as being.
A phantom shook my shoulder.
I tried to wake,
but my dream was syrup.
I could not swim up.
I felt you touch me,
and tried to stir.
I think death will be like this:
Sticky, sweet, heavy.
And silent as a sigh.
~ Elodie Pritchartt
April 7, 2014
