Futures Unseen

Today was yesterday as tomorrow.

I wake

up

to sleep. I wake up to sleep.

The kettle clicks. The water boils.

I stand there waiting for a sign.

My feet have memorized the road; they leave the rest of me

behind. I nod when someone says my name.

I laugh a second after you.

The light turns green.

The day moves on.

I do whatever bodies do.

Go, go, go— the city pulls me by the sleeve.

Come, come, come—

there’s just enough night left to sleep.

Eden, why have you forbidden humans?

We were born outside,

but taught to miss your trees.

I can barely dream of ecstasy— why does the dream get all

the life in me?

I wake up to sleep,

close my eyes to feel.

If dreaming isn’t living,

why is it all that’s real?

Last night, the grass came through the floor.

The ceiling opened into rain.

I ate an apple,

core and all, and no one made me feel ashamed.

Nobody asked what I was worth.

No one was waiting to be pleased.

Then something rang beside the bed— and I woke up.

And went to sleep.

Go, go, go—

put the hours in their place.

Come, come, come— wash the weather from your face.

Today I missed my turning.

The world did not collapse.

A tree beside the station

had split the paving slabs.

I touched the bark.

It held the sun.

No voice said, “Not for you.”

I’d spent my life outside a gate

the roots were growing through.

Go, go, go—

but I let the buses leave.

Come, come, come— there was nowhere I had to be.

Eden, keep your gates and your permission.

There’s a little patch of sunlight at my feet.

I can’t say I’ve found a life of ecstasy,

but this moment doesn’t want a thing from me.

I won’t wake up to sleep.

There’s something here to feel.

I don’t need to call it heaven.

I just need to know it’s real.

Go, go, go–

Not yet. Come, come,

come– Not yet. Today was yesterday as tomorrow— until I took the

long way home.