Fruit of the Night

Last night exhausted from the day I slept. Through my subconscious the following crept: From the chasms of my mind sprang forth a tree. Its branches droop, as it is filled with absurdity: kites, games,sharks and more; Children climb where redtail soar. Bishops and Pawns sit in its shade. Queens and snapdragons promenade. Rattlesnakes slither under skies of blue. These hang out in my tree too. Tall branches scrape the edge of space. My tree’s branches sprawl all over the place. Other things are in it as well: trucks and rockets and oysters on the shell, tigers, trash and fishing lines, dogs, cats and bottles of wines. Far from the edges of its center The wind blows cold like the air of winter. My branches hold a bath of bubbly water, where splashes a gulfside otter. A Doctor drives a tractor with a chain, pulling up the roots from my brain. All of a sudden a knight sounded an alarm. I woke with a sense of dread and harm. From my shabby bed I leapt. The fruit of my tree I safely kept.