Mermaids turned pirates, flying over Nightmare’s Bluff, singing
of sending gardens in wee bottles.
The best dreams use found seeds as soil—
they grow crystals with piercing edges,
claret polished to a sharp point,
“Captain! Before you’re fully awake!
That lone silver clef separating your garden,
can I saber a cutting?”
(Kerry’s Flash 55 Plus)
I might’ve gone to bed with “The Burial of the Dead” (line 69) in my mind…
and staring at the wee bottle below,
which sits on top of a journal by my bed *cough, cough, cough*.