carved heart

never realised
how far the stars
went till i was
forced to sleep
under them
for weeks

— or rather
try to sleep
when really too
scared to dream
for fear of deserts
of orange dust
to drift too far
into the lake of milk

— so trace paths
over our heads
like branches
looking for leaves
waiting for night
to fold up like a brolly
& dawn to fill
the valley with honey