Ode to What I See in My Dream


Eternal pink sunset
with white wisps of cumulus clouds collecting
around what looks to be a movie-set mountaintop
and in reeds I swim
but for some reason in this dream I am a woman ""
what internal conflict callousing against
my regularity this reveals not so and even dumbfounds me ""
but certainly I am a woman
and I wade in this bog
in which I am surrounded by cranberries and cattails
tilapia's eyeballs flicker across the borders
of my periphery
which I take no notice of as I float onward toward the mountain
head half-in
but beating down
to contrast the brushing of the flora
and the scent of the cold water
beating down is that
obnoxiously loud knocking
as though a postman on his last round begrudgingly
dropping off the penultimate package
picking up minimum wages from whence your house he disengages
and he turns his daughter's chin away from the ice cream cone
to his eyes
so that she may feel sweetness with at myriad of senses
beating down the sound
of the drip
of the water
as I wade away.

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