Dry Spell
sleeping alone
acrylic dust coughing my throat
fingernail posts splitting like thirsty pine trunks
top sheet of earth
ready to be kicked off during restless dreaming
sit at the invisible desk matted with the old layers of your body
maintain the position to believe the desk and chair are real
draw runes in the dust
make them up
use no old magic
cast the air pockets from your knuckles with a swift crack
wait for the echo to reverberate off the wall behind you
lay these magics here until there is someone laying on your bed again
until there is a warm vessel to absorb the echo
and call you back
Alex Vigue is a queer poet and storyteller from a little but growing town in Washington State. He has a degree in creative writing from Western Washington University and has been published in Phantom Drift, The Fem, and Witch Craft Magazine. You can find him and links to his other work at alexvigue.wordpress.com and on twitter @Kingwithnoname.