Inside the Dream #30
I try to drag the dream back
like an anchor sunk to the sea floor.
Where're the ectothermic swimmers?
The yapping ornamental botanicals?
Finally, one world trumps the other,
an eye to the morning yawning open
and whoever I was in whatever
place I live 25 years of my life in
slips back into the fathomless empty.
A friend says, it's not the details, but
the feeling, How do you feel in the dream?
I go back to the moment, gray blanket
the dog soft between my arms, a blurry
waking and all I can remember is you.
How you were there, and how badly
I'd wanted to stay unbroken in that way.