A poem a day for a year #224

by Amy Turn Sharp


I saw you on the back of my eyelids last night
through the needle of time
I let my body fall soft into the bed
I pushed my mind to the edge of burning out
smoke poured out of my ears
as I kept you suspended like wire
I would like to see your face again
there has to be something I am forgetting
a mole
a freckle
the symmetry of a grin