while i sleep,
these girls move from their walls,
and they play at clothes.
their toes soft and quiet in the grey night;
not a sound while they kiss,
fragile lips drinking
cupping raw silent water
and circling with kitten fingers the red stars.. .
and then the paint fades.
shows white irises and hollow skeletal frames.
i painted them deeply.
i wished them startling.
i can never quite play at life
the same way they exist
in the nude frothy moments
and i listen to them sipping
thimbles full of everything.
**one of them who looks like me
is so needful; she burns cold and pink.
possessed life under her breasts.
climbing the ground