Only a Dream?

As she closes her eyes
for the night
her lashes mingle
and dreams begin behind them.

Fireflies lead her across

a garden he has grown her
as a wind full of whimsy
lifts her hair down.

She steps out of a pink negligee,

igniting her skin with the goose bumps
he’ll conquer with an embrace.

And her beauty commands the killing of a flock of clocks:

Victor Hugo writes one last poem by coffin candlelight;

a blind man sees his wife while reading it in Braille—

The aurora borealis falls in love with a rainbow;

nature sends a new species of butterfly into the world—

Scarlet tanagers drop rose petals over the ocean;

hands of sunlight push lovers face to face—

But before that first kiss the locusts cause an eclipse.

As he tosses and turns

in white sheets
werewolves crawl in
from the shadows.

Fireflies explode

in the wilting garden
as a sky full of bats
pull her hair up.

But it’s only a dream,

Only a dream, she says
as she wakes him quietly
with an empathetic kiss.

 

From the book Kairos (print version only)