There’s No Such Thing as a Dreamless Space

by Ariane Blackman

Dreams are the spaces between things,
wordless burrs
secret indentations

Imprinting on skin,
sinking inward
like hangnails

Bursting out
between things known
yet unnamed

And forgotten immediately
when white curtains
fill with the rising sun

But the skin remembers,
the primed neurons,
carrying a vibration

That is like uneasy knowing –
a restless itch or irksome lover
waking with us each morning

— from Juniper Volume 1, Issue 1