The world has changed
since I was last here,
but at least my
mum’s kitchen hasn’t -
where across
the chequerboard floor,
the old family dog’s
deep asleep,
tapping his arthritic paws
up and down effortlessly -
running miles
through the dreamworld
even if he can’t
in this one anymore.
I wonder if he can
have lucid dreams?
I wonder if he knows
that he’s left the dream,
when he wakes?
I wonder if him, me,
every fucking word
that I’ve written and
everything that’s
happened and ever will -
are all just part of some
interconnected dream
unfolding in god’s head?
Suddenly the dog wakes up,
stares at me and sighs -
as I laugh and focus
on my own world again -
the one filled with poetry,
passion and chaos.
Gwil James Thomas is a novelist, poet and inept musician. His written work can be found in numerous publications in print and online and has been nominated for The Pushcart Prize and Best of The Net. He resides in his hometown of Bristol, England, but has also lived in London, Brighton and Spain. His most recent chapbook can be found here: https://analogsubmission.com/chapbooks/gwiljamesthomas-cocoontransitions
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