TRAGIC Poem: daydreaming, by Colleen Rowland

i.

the mind is not the brain.
the mind is
mysterious
foreign
ambiguous.
the mind is not confined to the skull.
it defies
possibility
expectation
reality.

ii.

when i close my eyes
i see sparks of color
dancing the tango.
they are
azure
chartreuse
emerald.
their psychedelic dance slows
to a waltz.
they become
familiar
warm
sensual.

iii.

this is what i see
when i close my eyes.
her hands around his neck
his hands around her hips
her waiting by the window
for him to come home
her dripping mascara staining
his shirt charcoal
her body fully relaxed
against his embrace.

iv.

the mind is not the brain.
folded tissues can’t be
daggers
guns
arrows.

v.

this is what i see
when i open my eyes.
crumbs of wheat toast
tumbling into a mug of hot tea
faded sunlight peering
through an old window
a dog at my feet and
a blank wall to my face.

vi.

the mind is
thief
trickster
villain.
vii.
the mind is alive.
it says
you
will
never
be
her.