scour

liminal

Aquifer

Dreamt of water

Rinnin in watter

I see masel fae in aneth,
in a swite or in a dwam,
rinnin in watter.

Abeen, the clowds hap themsels
an whisper; in dags they weave roon
coupit trees that spik only the claik o wid.

Slugabed Binion

Slugabed Binion from her bed by a brown-stained dresser wakes to morning. Wisps of dream still trickle from her teardrop eyes. Her thin, fair hair hides its grey in the time it takes to comb and comb, to brush away the truth. It falls in hatched straight lines and masks her silver with its gold. She sighs and puts a white hand to her face, the pale lip trembles in a memory till the red stick paints today across the edges of her smile.