Christine Hume


Ambien Anthem


Ghosts shove their heads through the moon
You shove yours through focal points
The future of your eye is its past

There is no sleep without a tall ghost lifting a small ghost up to see it

In each tear awaiting an eye
Its own eye
Lost in an oceanic moment 

When the eye fell down
The future of empty was the past of tempting
Your bed, a bookmark
Dead spots, the line in knots
You on the line with your mother
Stereo guardians of static storms

Roll with the mizzling movie
Ambush of blushes
Deficits piled around the doghouse
In brawl things are hidden
In spank you are blind
Stereo flowers overlooking you
Keep whatthe and nowthere unsplit
Each drains an attempt

You cannot stop infinity
Each tear each ghost each star each mother
Containers to be opened only in total darkness
Every eye falls down

When each eye cannot go down without it
The future of touch is the past of snapshots
In the pharmacy of little whites
Sadness at having once slept through a meteor shower

If you can feel it             
If you can’t feel it           

The future of ambien is the past of a motherless force  

© 2008 Electronic Poetry Review