When I arrived at the side of your bed
like an answered prayer, you asked me
where I’d been all night and I said
“keep your eyes closed”
so you could not see the wooden
wings attached to my wrists.
We spoke about the magnetizing force
of moon and the failing path of sunlight.
I reminded you of how light we were
the years we spent naked
and how suntanned your body was
from the fire that used to be my stare.
We spoke of the heated color of blood
and the sudden vertigo induced by lust.
Every dream has two sides
Yours, calling my name in sleep
mine, waiting for the dream call
attached to the cross of your voice
like a Daliesque St. John hovering
above the Catalonian shoreline.
DQ 7/1/7
