a streetlamp blinks, a paper boat bound for

neverland sinks in swirling, amber-lit water.

the sandman-sky, black as a werewolf, flashes

his lightning-teeth. the rats dig deeper holes.

shaky fingers trace a name (something you can

call your own?) on smoky cobwebbed glass.

bittersweet raindrops glitter & shimmer, like stars

that have lost themselves, or ancient pearls.

in the old house at the end of the lane (that

is sometimes not there), a rag doll watches

atop a skeletal christmas tree. you wrap

bare boxes, tie them with faded ribbons

on a cold, windy night. the old musical box

stutters & gasps, in some dark drowning.