Dream Whispers
Trees grew scales, dragonflies had
wingspans the length of a human arm.
Scales are the woody refuse of trees with
eczema. The webbing kaleidoscope of
gossamer wraps you in a strangled embrace.
You are a star-kindler. Your lips shared a kiss
with your jaw. Thank you for sharing your
sinew with my countenance.
I can’t hear you. Your face is not you.
You don’t know me but I see you.
We climbed the slippery metal siding of
a house breathing with fungus, throbbing
below our feet, and I reattached my face,
connected muscles and skin in a sickening
crunch. Can you hear me now?
Scrape away your preconceptions
and smile through a mouthful of spiders.
You are no more dead than alive.
Warmth opens the gates to my mind.
Spit out your brain. Drag
your sharp claws over my inception,
tear me out of this cognitive womb.
Paige Eaton is a recent graduate of Hartwick College, with a B.A. in History. She is originally from Rochester, New York. Her recent work focuses on surreal and dream-like experiences. Her work has appeared in Word of Mouth and her poem “The Itaewon Tragedy was a Pentadecagon,” won honorable mention for the 2023 Anna Sonder Prize for Poetry.