she dreams in spiraled clouds, candy spun
of nothing-dreams. she seems a wayward
soul, a lost girl in dragon skin. she’s begin
-ning to believe in something, anything, this
thing that is her own dark soul. she knows
the world’s got claws, and skin. she looks
up, watches gravity break its own small
law: turns out, it’s not all coming back again.
Prompted by Miz Q, day 24.