by Lorraine Schein
The gray field of the rain had risen.
She slept on the worn patchwork quilt of the sky.
When she woke up,
she dreamt that her house was flying,
that a witch rode by–
past the clouds, on a bicycle.
Where was the air going?
The wind poured out from her eyes.
Lorraine Schein is a New York writer. Her work has appeared in VICE Terraform, Strange Horizons, Enchanted Conversation, and Mermaids Monthly, and in the anthology Tragedy Queens: Stories Inspired by Lana del Rey & Sylvia Plath. The Futurist’s Mistress, her poetry book, is available from Mayapple Press: www.mayapplepress.com