A Stranger in What I Hope Was a Dream Emma Louise Miller
A slim shadow of a man appears illuminated by the silver of the moon and crouching on the concrete curb, hands wrestling with blood poppies and hyacinth bruising the grass. A forest of leafy spikes curls around us and pushes me forward-
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a blur of green, eggshell, blue, rust and suddenly I’m behind him, close enough to touch and close enough to hear gentle sobs and see tears seasoning the pavement. I reach out, fingers grasping gently at his hood until it falls down and he seems familiar but he doesn’t turn to look at me. Silent for now, still facing the ground, he points to the stars with his little finger and out crawls a drawled rasp
up there-
