Cloud chase


I am plunged, head on, into the void
until only a wisp of the moon
Wrapped up to the chin in my duvet, I fly,
except for one eye that I left
in a flurry. I lift
the other one towards the black. My ears
host the ethereal winds. Sky beasts
float past and come back.
They boast star-studded skins,
 wing their way up and wink.
At the blink of an eye, they’re snapped up
by the moon who’s approaching face on,
now in at the chase, a lunatic to get me;
he is out for a pillow fight.
I hold tight to my bed, take spirals,
cut bends, fluff up clouds,
the cirrus, the cumulus, the stratus.
My neck cricks and aches,
my eye scrunches and blinks,
when I follow
the leaps of the silver-lined lambs
pursued by an opaline moon.
How they huddle and hunch
on bright buttercup hills!
When the noise of the rain fills my ears,
brings me down with my bed in a crunch.
I open my eyes and synchronise them
to the wet.

© Yutka 2023
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At first I was lost when reading this. (I hadn’t read your tags.) I wasn’t sure you didn’t have some cryptic message or theme secreted within the words. Well, you did of course, but in the last stanza came the understanding. Surreal indeed, but what a flight! Mine are far more mundane. 🙁


I like the line ‘he is out for a pillow fight’ it brings that chilhood lostness only adults understand once it’s to late.


I loved this, so much an evocation of our lost childhood, or is that lost adulthood? The flying (astral?), my wife use to fly out of her body when young, and she has vivid memories of seeing London from the air. It all ended when she lived in Bedford, when she kept bouncing back off the window. As for dreams, if we can look at our hands – that’s a start.


She was then on her own in an apartment high up in an old house (having walked out of a loveless marriage). She spoke to a colleague (psychiatrist) about the bouncing back from the window, and he asked – what would have happened if she went through – she might not have returned; so maybe it was time to hang up her wings?

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