Monthly Archives: March 2008

The First Part of Dreaming

The first part of dreaming
is lying in a way
that tells the body nothing
of where it is in space,
stills it for that lapse into
bluish underthoughts.
You do not remember or
know how it is done.
Yet you dig and scuff the
dunes, the beaches,
with a scapula or a dull heel,
for some unclasping
chestful of cold sovereigns
until the map is
all sweaty isotherms, and
no surrounding sea.

The first part of dreaming
is a heavy sundering.
A wave abandons sand
much as the last did.
These trillion calligraphs of
grit and salt water
will not recur; nor will
you, or she, and
every wrinkle you made
is caressed smooth.
Even a locket left behind
in rain after tennis
is coveted from hawthorns,
its glinting heart
unpicked in feathered quiet,
forgotten by dawn.