fruit dreams

in my dreams
sepia ferris wheel next an orange tree
in county lock up peeling rinds
native to this country to this war
blood on hands from killing time
sea of gray days black boots freshly shined
Bold once now quiet like cries
dreams are reincarnation
red is the color for harsher time
broken faces for every abused wife
thirty years for the way she handled the knife
ribbon zip ties what beautiful crime
my orange tree is silver it blends with the walls
illusions taste good handcuffed in the hall
walking outside
it’s sunny do you see the moon?
I had forgotten my time came so soon
grabbed my hand it is not your time
for the next six months your face is mine

in my dreams