The man who turned inside-out
by Sean Lause

In a sudden wind
his mind turned inside out
like an umbrella.

He could feel the spokes of the real
bend, groan, and break
like the spine of that umbrella.

He could feel his heart,
his veins, his blood, his breath
as if they were at last his own.

Words beheld the things they made,
poems dropped gently with the leaves,
and books read deep into their readers.

Then another wind
turned the world inside-out,
and he blossomed into darkness and light.

He heard stars whisper like children,
the night bless lovers with planets conjoined,
and dandelions chant silver to the moon.

Now he lets storms blow through him,
the sun enlighten, and the moon dream him
to the silence of his happy bones.

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