|
|
Dream Wars (Free verse) by lastobelus
She's dreaming of me again. Her
eyes move under the lids
and her hand rests limp on my hip.
I watch the quirking of her mouth
in the monochrome light. I won't sleep
now for sure, so I ease out
from under her arm and from
under the covers and pad to the living room
and my couch. Outside, the streetlights
are a row of false moons and someone
comes home late in a taxi.
The fine German motor hums softly
and they spill out
huddled close, stumbling and laughing. A pale BMW
fades away, and somewhere a door closes
firmly on silence. Now--
where were we?
"I stumble down a steep path. At the bottom
people laugh distantly, playing
in the huge waves of a blue-green cove. Tired
of the intricacies required of my feet
by the path, I lift myself up
and float instead. Emboldened,
I swoop suddenly down,
straight into the largest breaking wave.
Silence.
I sink down slowly, the water
cool and alive all around me,
and have no need to breathe.
At the bottom in the white sand I see your face,
spreading over the sand like a vast--"
I open my eyes. My legs are
extended crookedly, thin and white and
luminous on the fine dark color of the sofa.
I rub one jutting bony knee and sigh.
"--I see your face on the bottom, faint and glowing
and I want to go to you.
You are smiling.
My lungs are bursting, though i have no need to breathe.
I sink,
faster and faster and sink right into you.
Suddenly I am in a city, an ancient
brownstone city, and I know the city is really us.
I look at you,
and your face changes.
Your eyes widen. I look up
and the tops of the gold-tipped towers
shimmer and silently crumble. From somewhere
starts the long downward moan--"
Stop. I open my eyes again.
Across the street in the gap between houses
the black night of the sky is moving to indigo.
There is in truth a siren wailing softly
somewhere across the river. I unfold
from the couch. The cool blonde wood
feels good on my feet. Her dream
ended, I will be able to find sleep.
"--I know the city is us, and you have brought
me here to show me how beautiful it is."
In the morning she will tell me her dream
and I will swallow hard and reply,
wondering how long I can manage
this deception.
Back to poem details
|