Earth-tone walls offer false shelter,
a yellow bed clutches me tight.
Creamy fog floats over terra cotta tiles.
From behind an ornamented wooden door
a giraffe, who wears a turquoise straw hat,
smirks at the bewildered dog.
The stuffed snakes have survived the slaughter.
Now they dance
to the flutes of the wind, the percussion of the kiva fire.
Two magic goats fly through the rustic kitchen. Outside,
snow hares jump over flickering red paper lights.
In the distance, coyotes howl.
Blood streams down white mountains.
Come back, my soul.
It is time to wake up.